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One feature of the Google interactive map of the Battle of Franklin [found at: http://www.franklinbattlefield.com] is that we identify the location where key indidviduals were killed or wounded during the action; for example, where Gen Patrick Cleburne was killed near the Carter cotton gin.
We also include some video on some content items. In the example of Cleburne, we have a brief video of historian Eric Jacobson talking about the charge that Cleburne was killed at during the battle.
The next day after the battle, December 1st, Patrick Cleburne, and three other Confederate Generals were brought to Carnton and laid out on the back porch. Jacobson eloquently tells the story. What about his Kepi? His pistol?
The bodies of Confederate Generals Cleburne, Adams, Strahl and Granbury were laid out right on this porch on the morning of December 1st, 1864.
This is the authentic Kepi worn by Cleburne the day he was killed.
Image of Cleburne’s Kepi courtesy of the Tennessee State Museum, Nashville, TN.
Want to know more?
Read the incredible true story of what happened to the once-lost pistol that belonged to Patrick Cleburne.
Carnton historian and author Eric Jacobson talks about C.S.A. General Patrick R. Cleburne’s proposal in early 1864 to arm the slaves to fight for the Confederacy. It was very poorly received by the military brass, and probably cost him any further major advancement in rank or position in the Confederate army.
The divisions of Cleburne and Brown made the assault upon the Federal works around 4:30 pm. The shock-attach was so powerful it knocked three Federal regiments on their heels. The Rebels nearly landed a knock-out punch at Franklin. But Emerson Opdycke’s Brigade staunched the flow and saved the day for the Federals. In the assault, Cleburne was shot through the heart.
A historical marker on the site where Cleburne’s assault and death took place honors the fallen Confederate hero. Recently, the Franklin community – through the leadership of Franklin’s Charge – recovered a one-acre piece of ground that was part of the epicenter of this assault. Read about the historic event.
Cleburne’s death was a devastating loss for the Army of Tennessee. The December 3rd edition of The New York Times headlined, “The Rebel General Cleburne Killed.”
Pistol image is used by permission of the Layland Musuem, Cleburne, texas.
I’m sure I’m not the first to think of this question, but, what if Jefferson Davis had promoted Patrick Cleburne to corps command as head of the Army of Tennessee instead of John Bell Hood in July 1864, or even earlier, perhaps even preceding Johnston?
Playing mental ping-pong with what-if-scenarios are highly conjectural, have the advantage of hindsight vision, and can be very unfair to some participants, especially of ones who made big blunders. Well . . . so. It’s still fun.
I postulate this. Had Davis promoted Cleburne instead of Hood to lead the Army of Tennessee, I think the Western theater results might have been very different. Imagine how Cleburne might have approached the Atlanta campaign differently, or especially the Franklin-Nashville campaign.
Though a certain sense of inevitability sets in at some point, meaning, one wonders if anyone on the Confederate side – at the level of Corps commander – would have made any difference having to report to Jefferson Davis, one still wonders what might-have been had someone like Cleburne been able to lead a Corps during the most desperate need for abled-body leadership on behalf of the Confederacy.
If Hood and Cleburne were in the ring together for ten rounds, I score it a knock-out by Cleburne in four!
Ding!
How do you call it?
[Scroll to the very bottom to see comments]
As the Army of Tennessee approached Franklin on the afternoon of November 30, 1864, John Bell Hood and his commanders met at the Harrison House, just south of Winstead Hill.
Cleburne’s words to his fellow General-colleague, Daniel Govan are now etched into eternity. “Well Govan, if we are to die, let us die like men.”
Carnton historian Eric Jacobson talks about the debacle that was Spring Hill – November 29, 1864 – and how it impacted Patrick Cleburne. What was Cleburne’s possible state of mind just 24 hours before the Battle of Franklin? Jacobson weighs in with some interesting thoughts.
General Patrick R. Cleburne
Wiley Sword (from pages 223-224):
“About forty yards from Reilly’s works, and nearly in front of the salient at the cotton gin, an ounce of lead, little more than a half inch in diameter and traveling about 1,000 feet per second, found its mark. It was the work of but an instant; a great chasm in Southern history frozen in microseconds. In one shocking moment Pat Cleburne collapsed to the ground, carrying with him perhaps the best hopes of a dying Confederacy’s western army. A lone minie ball had struck just below and to the left of his heart, shredding veins and arteries like tissue paper as it ripped through his body. In a few moments he breathed his last. Pat Cleburne lay dead, his battle saber still grasped firmly in his hand, and his lifeblood soaking the white linen shirt and gray uniform vest with a slowly expanding blotch of crimson. After all the glory and the anguish, it had come to this. Perhaps the South’s most brilliant major general, the “Stonewall Jackson of the West,” his ideas scorned by his president and his competence punished by his commanding general, had been required to lead a suicidal frontal attack like some captain of infantry. Was it God’s decreed fate, or simply man’s stupidity?”
Watch a video of historian Eric Jacobson describing the action around the Cotton gin during the Battle of Franklin.
The following newspaper account was printed in the New York Times, December 3rd, 1864 issue.
The pistol in this picture is Cleburne’s actual Colt revolver, now on display in the Layland Museum in Cleburne, Texas. Courtesy, the the Layland Museum.
Want more?
- Read the article “From mystery to history: the story of Gen. Patrick R. Cleburne’s once-lost pistol”.
- Read other article/posts on this web site about Cleburne.
- Browse over the Franklin battlefield Google map, accessible at www.FranklinBattlefield.com where you will find the only web-based interactive map of the Battle of Franklin; including troops positions, authentic accounts and pictures – all in the Google map interface. Easy to use.
Eric A. Jacobson, Carnton historian, and author of the best-selling For Cause and for Country, spoke on Friday, June 19th, 2008, at the Franklin’s Charge press conference. He gave great detail on the action between the Federal and Rebel soldiers on the very site of the property that was just purchased by Franklin’s Charge. It is believed that the epicenter of the Battle of Franklin took place precisely on this spot.
Unless you’re a real Civil War buff, meaning, you’re fairly knowledgeable about Civil War-era small arms, you’re not likely to have much interest in the news that Confederate General Patrick R. Cleburne .36 caliber Colt revolver is coming to Franklin, Tennessee. The revolver will be displayed with his Kepi, or hat, that he was wearing on the evening he was killed in the Battle of Franklin on 30 November 1864. But you don’t have to be a Civil War afficionado to appreciate a great story, and the story of how Cleburne’s pistol is making its way back to Franklin, after more than 143 years, is quite amazing.
The story behind how the Cleburne pistol ended up in the worthy possession of the Layland Museum in Cleburne, Texas, has all the intrigue of a mystery-novel and the hoopla, at times, of a story right out of Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not.
Photo courtesy of the Layland Museum, Cleburne, Texas
Click here to see many more pictures of the pistol and Kepi
The last time the Kepi and pistol were together: early December 1864
The story starts 30 November 1864, when CSA General Patrick R. Cleburne, himself an Irish-born immigrant, was killed by a single-shot to the chest. Gen. Cleburne was carrying a .36 caliber Colt revolver during the Confederate assault upon the Yankee breastworks near the Carter farm in Franklin, Tennessee.
The next morning, Cleburne’s body was removed to the local field hospital, the McGavock residence, also known as Carnton. What is clear is what was missing on his person when his body arrived that morning: his boots, diary and sword belt. Later in the day, Cleburne’s aide, Lt. Leonard Mangum, found the sword belt with another soldier. What is unclear is just what immediately happened to the pistol. There is no record of it being stated as missing, but then there is also no record stating positively what had happened to it. Carnton historian Eric Jacobson believes that the McGavock’s never had the pistol. The pistol finally shows up in Texas much later. How it got there may likely always be a mystery.
The bodies of four Confederate Generals were placed on the back porch at Carnton on Thursday morning, December 1st, 1864. Besides Patrick Cleburne, it is believed that Generals Strahl, Granbury and Adams’s bodies were placed on the porch, beneath the windows on the right.
What happened with the pistol between 1864 and 1900 is a real mystery.
The next 30 years roughly – 1870s to 1900 – were murky history at best. We’re really not sure what exactly happened with the pistol during that period of time.
The story can be fairly confidently picked up in the mid 1890s, though with some reliance upon the veracity of oral tradition. It seems that a Texas man, perhaps a veteran Confederate soldier or descendant, had found himself as owner of the ‘precious’. However, in the mid 1890s he found himself down on his luck and decided to sell the pistol to improve his lot. So the pistol transfered into the hands about this time to a man named Seakrats.
Seakrats, circa 1900, apparently recognized the inscription on the weapon enough to decide that a local Confederate Veterans Camp – Pat Cleburne Camp #88 – might be the right home for the revolver. So Seakrats turned the precious relic over to the Pat Cleburne Camp #88 around the turn of the twentieth century. Does the story end there? Not even close.
What happened to the pistol from 1900 to roughly 1913?
The Captain of Camp #88 was O.T. Plummer. In an effort to verify the pistol as having originally been owned by Cleburne, he had the Camp Adjutant, Matthew Kahle, take the gun to Helena, Arkansas. Cleburne lived in Helena prior to the outbreak of the Civil War. Post-war veterans and colleagues of Cleburne still lived there and were able to attest to its authenticity. The Helena group verified it as unequivocally having belonged to Patrick Cleburne. However they thought the best home for it would be Helena. But, not feeling he was authorized to give it to them, Kahle returned to Cleburne, Texas – named after the General – with said-treasure in stow.
So, from 1900 – 1913, the much-coveted relic was in the possession of a man named James Voluntine Hampton in Cleburne, Texas. The story continues and the twists and turns got even wilder.
What happened between 1913 and 1944? Possibly stolen.
Mr. Hampton walked into the new Cleburne county courthouse in 1913 and revealed he had the pistol. Apparently, he handed over the revolver where it promptly was placed into a desk-drawer where it was kept for years; how many we’re not sure. There is some belief that the pistol may have even been stolen during the Great Depression era and was possibly missing for at least a decade, leading up to 1944.
The next chapter is incredible. A couple boys found the gun on the banks of the Nolan River in 1944. They sold it to a scrap dealer for the princely sum of $5 dollars. By now, it was in fairly poor condition. The dealer noticed an inscription, and after confirming with the town Sheriff that it appeared to be Cleburne’s name on it, they contacted the President of the local United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) chapter, who just happened to be the daughter of . . . . O.T. Plummer. She agreed it was authentic and bought it for $5 bucks. Thus the proud owner of the ‘precious’ in 1944 is now the UDC. End of story? Nope.
Mystery again between 1955 to 1970.
From 1944 until 1955, it’s not altogether clear where exactly the gun was stored. But in 1955, it resurfaced again when a gun-restorer offered to restore it, which he did. He apparently was not the best restorer of small-arms weapons – at least not this one. The attempt to restore it saw the degradation of some of the engravings on the barrel, frame and cylinder. However, the inscription of “P. R. Cleburne” on the backstrap largely avoided any damage and remained intact and clearly legible.
In 1960, the gun was moved to the National Guard Armory – a former WWII United States Government-leased property for utilization as a German prisoner of war camp. After the armory was closed in the late 1960s, the pistol wound up in Austin, Texas. Around 1970, it was put on display in the State Capitol in their Civil War room.
What happened to the pistol from 1971 to 1978?
Still looking for a permanent resting place, the revolver was returned back to Cleburne, Texas, in 1971, where it was superintended by the Chamber of Commerce . . . . who ended up giving it back to the UDC. The UDC allowed the pistol to become part of the Layland Museum in Cleburne, Texas, in 1978, where it has been ever since.
Where is the pistol now?
And finally . . . in March, 2007, the UDC chapter that owned it, donated it to the Layland Museum.
End of story? Sort of . . .
The story will turn full circle on June 20th, 2008, at Carnton Plantation in Franklin, Tennessee, when for the first time since December 1st, 1864, the original Cleburne pistol is reunited with the original Cleburne Kepi, or hat, that the General – Stonewall of the West – wore into battle the fateful Indian summer evening on Wednesday, 30 November 1864.
As Cleburne strode into battle that evening, a fellow General had commented to the Irish commander that the prospect of the forthcoming assault of John Bell Hood’s Army of Tennessee did not look promising at all, to which Patrick Cleburne replied, “Well Govan, if we are going to die, let us die like men.”
General Cleburne, sir.
To you, we tip your hat this day, as we celebrate the reunion of your Kepi and pistol, on the very ground you shed your blood upon, for a cause you deemed worthy, paying the last full measure of devotion. Rest in peace, General.
Your Humble, Obedient Servants . . . .
The Franklin, Tennessee, community
Note: The above article was written by Kraig McNutt, Director of The Center for the Study of the American Civil War, and fellow member of The Franklin Civil War Roundtable. Assistance with research was provided by Carnton historian Eric A. Jacobson; Carnton Curator Manager, Joanna Stephens; and Curator of The Layland Museum, Ben Hammons.
Click here to see many more pictures of the pistol and Kepi
Want to see the pistol and Kepi in-person?
The Cleburne pistol and Kepi will be on display at Carnton in Franklin, Tennessee from the 15th through the 21st of June at Carnton. On Friday, the 20th, there is a 7:30 p.m. reception that is FREE to the public. Historian Thomas Cartwright will speak about Cleburne’s upbringing and life; and Carnton historian, Eric A. Jacobson, will speak about Cleburne’s military service.
Afterwards, tours led to see the relics on display are available (for a fee).
Carnton Hours of Operation
- Monday thru Saturday – 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Sunday – 1 p.m. to 5 p.m.
Admission Prices:
- Adults: $12.00
Seniors (over 65): $10.00
Children 6 – 12: $5.00
Children under 5: free
Grounds tour only: $5.00
Please call for group and school rates.
Call 615-794-0903 if you need help along the way.
The original Kepi and pistol belonging to Confederate General Patrick R. Cleburne was reunited unceremoniously on June 15, 2008, in the Carnton home – formerly the home of John and Carrie McGavock – around 4:30p.m., when Layland Museum curator Ben Hammons, delivered the pistol into the hands of Carnton curator Joanna Stephens. The Kepi is on loan from the Tennessee State Museum. These items were last together in early December, 1864 at Carnton.
Right to photography is graciously provided by Carnton, the Tennessee State Museum, and the Layland Museum in Cleburne, Texas.
The 8th Arkansas fought for Govan’s Brigade, Cleburne’’s Division at Franklin. Four known-dead are buried at McGavock Cemetery. The Captain of the 8th Arkansas, Samuel L. McAllester was captured at Franklin. The colors of the 8th, below, were presented to the 8th by the women of Jacksonport, Arkansas in the summer of 1862.
There is a golden embroidered inscription in the center of the flag that reads, “March on! March on! All hearts are resolved on victory or death!”
The boys of the 8th Arkansas marched this flag into the Federal line just west of the Cotton Gin as they took fire from the 104th Ohio and the 6th Ohio Battery.
Picture credit: Arms and Equipment of The Confederacy (p. 258)
Important quotes related to the Battle of Franklin:
When we got to the turnpike near Spring Hill, lo! and behold; wonder of wonders! the whole Yankee army had passed during the night. The bird had flown.
- Confederate Private Sam Watkins, 1st Tennessee Infantry
[Hood was] wrathy as a rattlesnake this morning, striking at everything.
- Confederate General John Brown to Maj. Vaulx of Cheatham’s staff, on the disposition of John Bell Hood on the morning of November 30th, upon learning that the Federals had escaped from Spring Hill in the early morning hours and had headed toward Franklin.
I have never seen more intense rage and profound disgust than was expressed by the weary, foot-sore, battle-torn Confederate soldiers when they discovered that their officers had allowed their prey to escape.
- Mississippian Rhett Thomas
The road was strewn everywhere with the wreck of thrown away stuff that they were unable to carry in their flight.
- Confederate Lt. Spencer B. Talley, 28th TN Infantry, describing what he saw along the Columbia Pike as the rebel army followed after the Union army into Franklin
To which Lt. William H. Berryhill, 43rd Miss., (CSA) added, the road was strewn with tents, knapsacks, dirty clothing, books, paper and a great many wagons were on fire.
Burnt wagons, dead pack animals, and tossed knapsacks all seemed to indicate a demoralized retreat, heartening the Southerners with thoughts of possible enemy capitulation and a quick victory.
Patrick Brennan, The Battle of Franklin, North & South magazine, January 2005, Vol. 8., No.1: page 35.
If you prevent Hood from turning your position at Franklin, it should be held; but I do not wish you to risk too much.
- George H. Thomas (c0mmander), to John M. Schofield, regarding how to proceed if an attack was to ensue at Franklin. Contrast this with Hood’s attack at-any-cost approach at Franklin.
I do no think the Federals will stand strong pressure from the front; the show of force they are making is a feint in order to hold me back from a more vigorous pursuit.
- General John Bell Hood to Nathan Bedford Forrest
General Hood, if you give me one strong division of infantry with my cavalry, I will agree to flank the Federals from their works within two hours’ time.
- Nathan Bedford Forrest to his commander Hood. Hood engaged two Corps at Franklin; Stewart’s and Cheathams. He did not even wait for Lee’s Corps or for his artillery to effectively engage in the enusing battle. Had he waited for Lee, he would have had three more divisions and could have supported Forrest in his request.
We will make the fight.
- General John Bell Hood to a subordinate officer after surveying the battlefield from Winstead Hill, just shortly before the battle began.
I hereupon decided, before the enemy would be able to reach his stronghold at Nashville, to make that same afternoon another and final effort to overtake and rout him, and drive him in the Big Harpeth river at Franklin, since I could no longer hope to get between him and Nashville, by reason of the short distance from Franklin to that city, and the advantage which the Federals enjoyed in the possession of the direct road.
- Confederate commander of the Army of Tennessee, General John Bell Hood, quoted from Hood’s memoirs, written long after the battle.
I could easily see all the movements of the Federals and readily trace their line. I saw that they were well fortified and in a strong position. I felt that we would take a desperate chance if we attempted to dislodge them.
- Corps Commander, Major General Benjamin F. Cheatham, upon surveying the battlefield from Winstead Hill, two miles south of the Fedederal’s position in downtown Franklin.
If an assault was to be made by Hood, General Cleburne said it would be a terrible and useless waste of life.
- General Patrick R. Cleburne, Cheatham’s division, who would soon lose is own life during the assault.
General, I will take the works or fall in the effort.
- Patrick Cleburne to General John Bell Hood. leburne would fall, mortally wounded in attempting to take the works.
It was the grandest sight I ever saw when our army marched over the hill and reached the open field base. Each division unfolded itself into a single line of battle with as much steadiness as if forming for dress parade. . . The men wer etired, hungry, footsore, ragged, and many of them barefooted, but their spirit was admirable.
- James D. Porter, who served on Benjamin F. Cheatham’s staff.
The rebels had filled the plain to the south, sounding to all like “a tornado heralded by clouds of darkness and muttering thunders.”
I.G. Bennett and William M. Haigh, History of the Thirty-sixth Regiment Illinois Volunteers, 1876, page 644; quoted in Patrick Brennan, The Battle of Franklin, North & South magazine, January 2005, Vol. 8., No.1: page 35.
General Cleburne seemed to be more despondent than I ever saw him. Iwas the last one to receive any instructions from him, and as I saluted and bade him good-bye I remarked, ‘Well General, there will not be many of us that will get back to Arkansas,’ to which he replied, “Well, Govan, if we are to die, let us die like men.”
- Brigadier Daniel C. Govan to Cleburne, and Cleburne’s reply upon commenting just moments before the assault was ordered by Hood.
[Pick back up at page 270 in Jacobson]
We could see them [Confederate Generals on the field at a distance] casting doubting glances in the direction of the formidable foe in our front; and judging from the appearance of their grave and serious looks, we all knew that our commanders in some degree realized the dept of that yawning gulf of destruction which awaited them and us, and which only too soon would engulf us all.
- An unknown Confederate soldier; quoted in Patrick Brennan, The Battle of Franklin, North & South magazine, January 2005, Vol. 8., No.1: page 37.
A profound silence pervaded the entire army; it was simply awful, reminding one of those sickening lulls which precede a tremendous thunderstorm.
- Confederate, John M. Copley, A Sketch of the Battle of Franklin, p. 48.
Go back, and tell them to fight like hell.
- Union General George Wagner instructing the courier to return to Wagner’s men on the frontline, who would take the initial blunt from Hood’s assault.
A tremendous deluge of shot and shell . . . seconded by a murderous sheet of fire and lead from the infantry behind the works, and also another battery of six guns directly in our front. It was, he said, a scene of carnage and destruction fearful to behold.
- A Mississippian survivor who faced the withering fire from Stiles’ brigade on the Union left flank at the opening of the battle.
Great God! Do I command cowards?
- Confederate General William Loring, as he witnessed scores of his Mississippians running for their lives back toward the pike, after facing the initial onslaught of the fire from Casement’s and Stiles’ brigade on the Union left flank.
Never before did a command of the approximate strength of Casement’s in as short a period of time kill and wound as many.
- Union soldier, B.F. Thompson, 112th Illinois, in History; p. 277. Casement’s brigade was made up of 65th and 124th Indian, and the 65th Illinois.
Dam*ed Rebel sons of b_____es . . . . stand here like rocks, and whip the h___ out of them.
- John S. Casement, Union commander of the 2nd brigade
Regarding the violent clash between Opdycke’s men and pockets of Cleburne’s and Brown’s one survivor described the action as the contending elements of hell turned loose (so indelibly stamped that a) long life spent in peaceful pursuits will not suffice to erase or even dim them.
- A survivor of the 73rd Illinois regiment.
With no place to go and no place to hide, the Confederates mounted desperate attacks across the parapet – “as many as thirteen charges” according to one account – and the Federals lining the retrenchment methodically blasted them back. The space between the two gashes in the ground began to resemble a sepulchre, grotesquely lit by little more than gunfure blasts and artillery explosions. And in a particularly gruesome development, the men started building shelters out of the bodies of their comrades. All the while the nearly continuous fire from the gin house coursed through the huddled soldiers, exacting a bloody price with every sweep.
- Quoted in Patrick Brennan, The Battle of Franklin, North & South magazine, January 2005, Vol. 8., No.1: page 43; Regarding the fire General George Gordon’s Confederate troops experienced as they fought in front of the Cotton Gin.
I never saw men put in such a terrible position as Cleburne’s division for a few minutes. The wonder is that any of them escaped death or capture.
- a Federal soldier, quoted in, The Battle of Franklin, M. Foster Farley, Civil War magazine; Summer 2006: p. 58.
Heads, arms, and legs were sticking out in almost every conceivable manner . . . The air was filled with moans of the wounded.
- Capt. John Shellenberger, 50th Ohio, Union soldier.
It was impossible to exaggerate the fierce energy with which the Confederate soldiers that November afternoon threw themsleves against the works, fighting with what seemed the very madness of despair. At some of the earthworks the press of men was so great that the dead having no place to fall, remained in an upright position.
- a Federal soldier, quoted in, The Battle of Franklin, M. Foster Farley, Civil War magazine; Summer 2006: p. 58.
Our loss of officers in the battle of Franklin on the 30th was excessively large in proportion to the loss of our men. The medical director reports a very large proportion of slightly wounded men.
- John Bell Hood, writing two days after the battle to Confederate Secretary of War, James A. Seddon. The South lost 53 of 100 regimental commanders in the field at Franklin. Granbury’s brigade alone lost 70% of their regimental commanders. Undeterred, Hood would unmercilously throw his beleaguered Army of Tennessee against Thomas in another suicidal attack just two weeks later, effectively destroying his army. He would be replaced within weeks of the loss at Nashville, having led the Army of Tennesse for roughly six months.
During the campaign around Atlanta our company was out on picket. Just before we were relieved in the morning our company killed a fat cow, and we managed to bring a quarter into camp. As we were expecting to move at any time, we cut up me beef in chunks, built a scaffold and spread the meat on it, then built a fire and were cooking it so we could take it with us. We were all busy working at it when one of the company looked up and saw old Pat coming down the line on a tour of inspection. We had no time to hide the beef, and knew we were in for it. One of the company stepped out and saluted the General, and said: “General, we have some nice, fat beef cooking, and it is about done; come and eat dinner with us.” “Well,” he replied, “it does smell good. I believe I will.” He sat down on a log, one of the boys took a nice piece of beef from the fire, another hunted a pone of corn bread and handed it to him. The General ate quite heartily, thanked us for the dinner, took out his cob pipe, filled it and began to smoke, chatting pleasantly with us, asking what we thought of our position, and if we thought we could whip the fight, if we had one, and then passed on down the line, while we cheered him. How could we help admiring him? Had he lived and the war continued, he was bound to have risen to great distinction as an officer. He and General Granbury were killed near the breastworks at the battle of Franklin, Tennessee, and the Confederacy lost two of her best officers.
T. O. MOORE,
Company F, Seventh Texas Volunteer Infantry,
Granbury’s Brigade, Cleburne’s Division, Army of Tennessee.
Southern Historical Society Papers.
Vol. XXI. Richmond, Va., January-December. 1893.
Anecdotes Of General Cleburne.
Southern Historical Society Papers.
Vol. XVIII. Richmond, Va., January-December. 1890.
General P. R. Cleburne.
May 10th, 1891, which was observed as decoration day at Helena, Arkansas, and also witnessed the dedication of the monument erected to the memory of the gallant General Patrick Ronayne Cleburne, by the devoted exertions of the patriotic ladies of the Phillips County Memorial Association. The reverential occasion convened numerous gallant veterans from a distance, including many from Memphis, Tennessee.
ADDRESS BY GENERAL GORDON.
General Gordon, after acknowledging the complimentary introduction, said:
“One of the noblest duties of the living is to perpetuate the virtues and memories of the dead. And in obedience to the impulse of this sacred sentiment, we have here assembled to dedicate that beautiful monument (pointing to the shaft), with its expressive and appropriate symbols, to the glory and memory of a great soldier, a true patriot and a grand man–General Patrick Ronayne Cleburne, who fell at the battle of Franklin, Tenn., November 30, 1864. Although more than a quarter of century has elapsed since he perished in the cause of his country, that shaft but now gives visible expression to those cherished sentiments of remembrance and veneration which have ever since, and ever should, animate the minds and hearts of a grateful people.
“General Cleburne was born in the county of Cork, Ireland, March 17, 1828, and was consequently in the thirty-seventh year of his age at the time of his death, and just in the full prime and pride of his glorious manhood. He was a descendant of William Cleyborne, the colonial secretary of Virginia in 1626.(*) His mother was of the lineage of that Maurice Ronayne, who obtained from King Henry the IV ‘a grant of the rights of Englishmen.’ He early indicated a predilection for the profession of arms by leaving Trinity College, England, where he was being educated for the medical profession, and enlisted as a soldier in the English army. After several years of service in that capacity, he came to the United States and located in this city (Helena, Ark.), where he began the study and practice of law, in which he was succeeding at the outbreak of our civil war. He enlisted in the Confederate army as a private; contrived the capture of the United States arsenal in Arkansas in March, 1861, thus early displaying that promptness, sagacity and enterprise which characterized him throughout his military career. He was made captain of a company, and very soon afterward promoted to the rank of colonel, and as early as March, 1862, was made a brigadier-general. At the battle of Shiloh he commanded a brigade, and was highly commended for his courage and ability. Was wounded at the battle of Perryville, Ky., in October, 1862, and in December following was advanced to the important rank of major-general. His martial qualities were recognized and rewarded in his rapid promotion to higher commands. At the battle of Stone river, or Murfreesboro, he commanded a division of the right wing of the Confederate army and again signalized himself for valor and efficiency.
At the battle of Chickamauga, one of the most interesting and thrilling conflicts of the war, the persistent spirit and shining courage of General Cleburne and his gallant command were again conspicuous. This great battle was fought on the 18th, 19th, and 20th of September, 1863, the contending armies being pretty equally matched as to numbers. On Friday, the 18th, there was heavy outpost fighting, on Saturday heavy fighting, and on Sunday desperate fighting. On the morning of the last and third day, the contest was renewed with augmented fury. All day the earth trembled with the thunder of three hundred guns and the clamor of one hundred thousand rifles. The very waters quivered within the banks of the Chickamauga river from the concussion of artillery. Troops were rushed from point to point. Column after column was hurried into combat. The thrilling shouts of contending hosts could be heard amid the battle’s roar. Couriers bearing orders dashed on panting steeds through the jungles and into the lines. Battle flags and flying banners mingled in the dreadful strife. The lurid smoke of battle rose and spread in purple waves as volley after volley thundered its deadly contents amid surging columns and resounding arms. All day the battle raged, and the issue seemed doubtful. But late in the afternoon both wings of the Federal line began to recede, and later were driven to confusion. But the left center of the enemy still stood firm and fighting. Upon that fortified point the flower of the Confederate army, embracing Cleburne and his division, had been hurled and rehurled without success. Charge after charge had been made and repulsed, and it seemed that the position was not to be taken. But just as the sun, encrimsoned with the smoke of battle and like a great, bloody disk in the sky, was sinking beneath Lookout mountain, that towered upon our left, news was swiftly brought to our center that both wings of the enemy’s line were in full retreat, and orders were given to charge again the Federal center. Quickly our shattered columns were rallied for the last grand struggle. The “charge” was sounded, and, with a shout that rent the heavens and an impetuosity that swept away all opposition, they dashed into the enemy’s works and poured a volley into their flying forces. The battle was over, the victory won, the rout complete. Pursuit was brief. Night closed the scene. For a few moments a strange silence reigned. It was indeed strange, in its mysterious contrast to the uproar and confusion of the last three days. But just then, miles away to our left, through the deep and darkening forest, could be faintly heard the shouting of troops. And what did that mean? Listen! listen! it is the shout of victory! Nearer and nearer it came, louder and louder it grew, grander and grander it rose, as it was taken up by each successive command in the line, till it passed and repassed the entire line of the Confederate army. From wing to wing it went and returned, from flank to flank it rolled. Shout after shout rent the skies, echo after echo died upon the heavens. I imagine it was like the shouting of the hosts of Joshua at the taking of the city of Jericho. In the exultation of that moment, every man felt that he was compensated for all the effort, all the anguish, and all the danger that the three days’ fight had cost him. For let me here say, that the sublimest emotion that ever filled the human heart, is that inspired by the shout of victory after a long and doubtful contest. The exultation ceased. Then was a time for memory and tears. The army sank down upon the earth to rest, “the weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.” Silence and moonlight wrapped the bloody scene. General Cleburne and his valiant division were in the charge that I have just described–the charge that completed the Confederate victory on the famous field of Chickamauga. The Confederate loss in this battle, as I now remember it, was about seventeen thousand in killed, wounded and captured–the Federal loss being about the same.
The next battle in which General Cleburne participated was that of Missionary Ridge, November 30th, 1863, where he achieved additional distinction by the handsome manner in which he repulsed the repeated assaults made upon his position in the right wing of the Confederate line. And although this battle resulted in a victory to the Federal arms, General Cleburne’s position was never shaken, much less taken, by any of the furious and repeated assaults that were made upon it during the action, but was abandoned in good order after the left wing of the Confederate army had been outflanked, beaten and routed by largely superior numbers–storming in column of three lines of battle, and making one of the most superb and gallant charges that we witnessed during the war. General Cleburne again distinguished himself in covering the retreat of the Confederate army from this field, and for his heroic defence of Ringgold Gap was specially commended by the Confederate Congress.
He was among the first to suggest and advocate the use of the colored troops in the armies of the Confederacy. This was in the winter of 1863 and 1864 when the “Army of Tennessee” was en-camped at Dalton, Georgia. His advice in this regard was met with a prompt and almost unanimous rejection by that army. But viewed in the light of the vital fact that at that time our available resources in men were practically exhausted; that our armies in the field were daily diminishing by death from disease and casualties in battle, and no means by which to increase them; and also viewed in the light of subsequent results, the wisdom and propriety of such a policy cannot be successfully questioned. There were then no other available resources by which the ranks of our armies could be recruited and maintained. And so it now appears that General Cleburne and his few supporters in this idea were wiser and more prescient than the many who differed with them. Expediency suggested the policy he advised.
Artwork by Will Smith
General Cleburne was a division commander under General Joseph E. Johnston during his celebrated campaign in North Georgia, and distinguished himself in a number of its various battles, and more especially at New Hope church, where he repulsed the enemy with signal firmness and efficiency and with heavy losses to their charging columns. He commanded an army corps at the battle of Jonesboro’, Georgia, and covered the retreat of General Hood’s defeated army from that field. He also commanded a corps at the battle of Franklin, Tennessee, where he was killed in storming the second line of the Federal works. Touching his action in this, his last charge, his last battle, I speak as a messenger from the field where he fell. This battle-ground lies in a beautiful valley and immediately south of the town of Franklin. About noon of November 30, 1864, the Confederate army under command of General Hood, appeared on the heights of an elevated range of hills [editor's note: Winstead Hill] that overlooked the valley and the village, and distant about one and a half miles from the main line of the Federal works, which were immediately south of the town and inclosing the same. Some hours after our arrival on these heights, and after examining the enemy’s fortified positions, General Hood determined to assault the place. Troops were promptly moved from the central and main road, upon which they had arrived, to the right and left under the cover of these hills, until they were opposite the positions they were directed to take in the line of battle, and were then moved over the hills to the front, and to their proper posts, preparatory to the assault. When these dispositions were made the advance was ordered–not in battle array, however, for we were too far off to begin the charge–but in a regimental movement we called “double columns at half distance,” in order that we might move with more system and facility, and also more easily pass obstacles, such as fences and small groves of trees which here and there interspersed the otherwise open plain upon which the great struggle was soon to take place. In the battle disposition General Cleburne’s corps was immediately on the right of the main highway or pike leading into Franklin from the south, and Cheatham’s corps was immediately on the left of it. This road was Cleburne’s left guide, and Cheatham’s right guide in moving to the attack. And as General Granberry’s brigade constituted the extreme left flank of General Cleburne’s command, and my brigade the extreme right flank of Cheatham’s, we were therefore contiguous in the order of battle, and both in the front line. As the array of columns which I have mentioned, with a front of two miles or more in length, moved steadily down the heights and into the valley below with flying banners, beating drums and bristling guns, it presented a scene of the most imposing grandeur and magnificence. When we had arrived within about four hundred paces of the enemy’s advanced line of entrenchments our columns were halted and deployed into two lines of battle preparatory to the charge.
This advanced position of the enemy was not a continuous but a detached line, manned by two brigades, and situated about six hundred paces in front of his main line of formidable works. This detached line was immediately in front of Cleburne’s left and Cheatham’s right. When all was ready the “charge” was ordered. With a wild shout we dashed forward upon this line. The enemy delivered one volley at our rushing ranks and precipitately fled for refuge to his main and rear line. At this juncture the shout was raised, “Go into the works with them.” This cry was taken up and vociferated from a thousand throats as we rushed on after the flying forces we had routed–killing some in our running fire and capturing others who were slow of foot–sustaining but small losses ourselves, until we arrived within about one hundred paces of their main line and stronghold, when it seemed to me that hell itself had exploded in our faces. The enemy had thus long reserved their fire for the safety of their routed comrades who were flying to them for protection, and who were just in front of and mingled with the pursuing Confederates. When it became no longer safe for themselves to reserve their fire, they opened upon us (.regardless of their own men who were mingled with us) such a hailstorm of shot and shell, musketry and canister that the very atmosphere was hideous with the shrieks of the messengers of death. The booming of cannon, the bursting of bombs, the rattle of musketry, the shrieking of shells, the whizzing of bullets, the shouting of hosts and the falling of men in their struggle for victory, all made a scene of surpassing terror and awful grandeur.
“Such a din was there,
As if men fought on earth below,
And fiends in upper air.”
It seemed to me if I had thrown out my hand I could have caught it full of the missiles of death, and it is a mystery how any of us ever reached the works. Amid this scene General Cleburne came charging down our lines to the left, and diagonally toward the enemy’s works, his horse running at full speed, and if I had not personally checked my pace as I ran on foot, he would have plunged over and trampled me to the earth. On he dashed, but for an instant longer, when rider and horse both fell, pierced with many bullets, within a few paces of the enemy’s works. On we rushed–his men of Granberry’s brigade and mine having mingled as we closed on the line, until we reached the enemy’s works; but being now so exhausted and so few in numbers, we halted in the ditch on the outside of the breastworks, among dead and dying men–both Federals and Confederates. A few charged over, but were clubbed down with muskets or pierced with bayonets. For some time we fought them across the breastworks, both sides lying low and putting their guns under the head-logs upon the works, firing rapidly and at random, and not exposing any part of the body except the hand that fired the gun. While this melee was going on across the works we were exposed to a dangerous fire from some of our own men of General Stewart’s corps to our right rear, there being an angle in the enemy’s line in that direction. At the same time we were subjected to an enfilading fire from the enemy to our left. Finally, the fatality to us from these three fires–front, rear and left–became so great that we shouted to the enemy across the works to “cease firing” and we would surrender. At length they heard us, understood us, and ceased their fire; we crossed the works and surrendered.
It was fatal to leave the ditch and endeavor to escape to the rear. Every man who attempted it (and a number did) was at once exposed and was shot down without exception. Pardon me if I further digress sufficiently to say that the left of my brigade, under command of Colonel Horace Rice (I was on the right), successfully broke the line and some of my brave and noble men were killed fifty paces or more within the works. But just at this critical juncture a reinforcement of a Federal brigade confronted them with a heavy fire, and being few in numbers they were driven back to the opposite side of the works, behind which they took position and bravely held the line they had previously taken. Night soon intervening, the Federal army withdrew from the field and retired to Nashville.
This was a gallant and glorious fight on the part of the Confederates, but a sad disaster to their cause and their country. The intrepid Cleburne had fallen. Generals Granberry and Adams of his command, Generals Carter, Strahl and Gist of Cheatham’s command and of the division of which my brigades composed a part, had also fallen, while hundreds of others, less notable but no less brave and self-sacrificing, had made their last charge and had fought their last battle. For reckless, desperate courage this conflict will rank with Gettysburg or Balaklava.
Referring again to General Cleburne’s action upon this memorable field, it appears upon first view as if inspired by desperation. For he was so close to the enemy, so conspicuous upon his stately steed, as he charged along the closing lines, that it seems impossible that he could have expected any other result to himself than that which occurred. But, be it remembered that he was without fear, that he loved victory and defied defeat. I am informed by those who knew him better than I, and who were usually closer to him in battle, that he often exposed himself unnecessarily to the most imminent danger. Besides, it is not improbable that he had predetermined to win a victory upon this field or die in the attempt. This hypothesis is supported by Hon. T. W. Brown, of Memphis, who relates that during the march of the army on General Hood’s ill-fated campaign from Georgia to Tennessee, some occasion at night had called together a large number of officers and soldiers. Public speaking became the order of the evening, and General Cleburne was called on for a speech. He at first declined, for he was not a talking man. But being repeatedly called for, he at last appeared, and after instructing the soldiers as to how they should fight, and especially advising them that when once under fire to press bravely forward and never turn back, he said in effect: “I will accomplish what I next undertake or else I will perish in making the attempt.” Franklin was his next battle; it was also his last. Thus perished the “Stonewall of the West,” as he was often called. A truer patriot or knightlier soldier never fought and never died. Valor never lost a braver son or freedom a nobler champion. As he charged amid the tempest of conflict he seemed the impersonation of the genius of battle–a veritable Mars on the field of war. He was a patriot by instinct and a soldier by nature. He loved his country, its soldiers, its banners, its battle-flags, its sovereignty, its independence. For these he fought, for these he fell. He could not have done more for his own loved fatherland than he did for the land of his chosen allegiance, in whose just defence he relinquished his life. He fell in the uniform of his adopted country, amid her soldiers and advancing flags. He died unconquered, and in doing so, threw Eastern lustre upon Southern valor. Two countries share in the glory of his name. Ireland gave him to the world; the Confederacy to immortality. Their joint emblems–a happy conception–fitly mark the monument that here speaks to posterity–Erin’s harp in bed of shamrock; the Confederate seal, showing Washington on warhorse, wreathed in Southland’s blooms and products; the sunburst of Ireland over the inscription “Franklin,” symbolizing that his life passed thence in an effulgence of glory. All the honors we can do him cannot equal his deserts. This beautiful monument, which love erects to memory and gratitude gives to glory, is but a modest expression of his country’s esteem. I think we do no injustice to any one, living or dead, when we say that he was the most distinguished and efficient soldier of his rank that fought in our Western armies–the most illustrious exponent of Irish valor and prowess that has yet appeared upon American fields. He knew how to lead a charge or rally a wavering column; possessed those martial qualities that achieve success and inspire in soldiers devotion to their leader. Though a stern disciplinarian, he was loved by his soldiers, who were ready to go wherever he commanded. He was not only a commander, but a comrade, fighting with his men. And if every Confederate soldier had been a Cleburne, we question not that the issue of the war would have been reversed and the political destiny of a people changed. He was a fearless soldier, a sagacious leader, a true patriot and a reproachless man. In his devotion to the cause he espoused he shrank from no sacrifice. Inspired by a sense of right “and sustained by a sublime courage he challenged danger and died gallantly in the cause of his country.”
His deeds we honor, his death we mourn; and in token of our recognition of his sacrifices, our admiration of his deeds and our veneration for his memory this modest monument has been erected. And on behalf of the ex-Confederate soldiers, and indeed of the people of the South, I would offer our thanks to those who have especially had charge of and accomplished this noble work. Beautify it with flowers, wreath it with laurel and crown it with immortelles. At the call of Arkansas he went to the field and it is fitting that his remains should repose in her soil; and more especially upon this beautiful spot, said to have been a favorite resort in his walks before the war. Tennessee, whose bosom received his blood, unites in honoring his memory to-day. Her soldiers, her patriots, her citizens are here, while her histories contain high tributes to his name. A work, entitled the “Military Annals of Tennessee,” contains a chapter (written by Colonel C. W. Frazer, of that State, and who served in General Cleburne’s command), in which this paragraph appears:
“The hero worship (amounting almost to idolatry) on the one hand, and the sympathy and admiration on the other, that existed between this regiment (the Fifth Confederate, composed of Tennesseeans), and General Cleburne was remarkable, and can only be partially accounted for by their common birthplace, their devotion to the Southern cross, and the ties that bind men who have often met a common foe in the death grapple. The snows of twenty winters have covered his modest grave at Helena, Ark., but now the mention of the name of Pat. Cleburne, brightens the eye and quickens the pulse of every man who fought under him. A born soldier, he was in battle the embodiment of war, and as a general, in his position, I think he had no superior; and withal he was as modest and true-hearted a man as ever wore the gray. It ought to be the pride as it is the duty of the historian to give this dead hero a white stone.” This book (The Military Annals of Tennessee) contains an excellent steel engraving of General Cleburne, and also a beautiful poem in honor of his memory by a Tennessee poetess, Mrs. Virginia Frazer Boyle.
In conclusion, while we would especially memorialize General Cleburne to-day, we cannot forget the thousands of our humbler comrades who also died valiantly for the country they loved. They, too, deserve our grateful remembrance, our paeans of praise, our tributes of love. All grateful people have remembered and venerated their patriot dead. Erin, that little land that has given more than her share of genius and valor to the world, still honors the name of her martyred Emmet. Enslaved and unhappy Poland still breathes a sigh for her Poniatouski; Sparta, though dead, echoes from her tomb the name Leonidas. Buried Carthage consecrated her sepulcher with the dust of her patriots. And the South, God smile upon her, still remembers her martyred dead, and speaks of their deeds with veneration and pride. Peace to their shades, honor to their ashes!
Numerous were the outbursts from his audience while touched upon the character of Cleburne, and the instances of the war which were deeply inscribed in the hearts of many of his listeners, who, too, had engaged in the battle at which General Cleburne fell and saw him meet his death.
Tears glistened in the eyes of many as the eloquent speaker’s words portrayed to them the vivid pictures which even the flight of years is unable to dim.
Immediately following the orator a choir composed of male and female voices sang the hymn, “When the Spirit Leaves Its Clay.”
Then followed the benediction by Rev. Father O’ Reilly, of Helena, after which the graves of the Confederate deceased were completely covered by loving hands with beautiful flowers. A larger crowd of visitors never before gathered in Helena for a purpose of this kind. For several days visitors have been coming from all parts of Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Kentucky.
The ladies of the Memorial Association, of Memphis, contributed a beautiful floral offering, which was placed upon the monument. It was a Confederate flag composed of geraniums, helitropes, and stars <shv18_272>of Bethlehem. In attendance upon the ceremonies were several relatives of the lamented Cleburne, in whose memory the shaft has been erected. It is a shaft of white marble, twenty-five feet in height, with the following inscription on the western side:
PATRICK RONAYNE CLEBURNE,
Major-General of C. S. A.,
Born in County of Cork, Ireland, March 17, 1828.
Killed at the Battle of Franklin, Tenn., November, 1864.
On the north side the word “Chickamauga” and the Confederate seal, and the following words from the poem of Mrs. Virginia Frazer Boyle:
A rift of light
Revealed the horse and rider, then the scene was dim;
But on the inner works the death hail
Rang in dying Cleburne’s ears a battle hymn.
On the east side was the sunburst and the legend, “Franklin.” On the side facing the south was the harp of Erin entwined with the shamrock, below which was the stanza:
“Memory ne’er will cease to cherish deeds of glory thou hast won.”
After appropriately decorating the graves, Confederate and others, the spectators departed for the outgoing trains and boats, which bore away the various crowds who joined in commemorating and honoring the noble Confederates of rank and file.
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