A patriotic scene took place when our soldiers were crossing on the pontoons. The 15th Corps, with the noble Logan, had reached the crossing. The splendid city of Columbia was in full sight, and the troops were in high spirits. It was then that the splendid bands of music struck up patriotic airs. The nervous Yankee Doodle and Hail Columbia, produced powerful and thrilling effect. The veterans sung these standard pieces with the spirit and the understanding. It sounded in the ears of the chivalrous Southrons like mighty thundering.
General John E. Smith's Division, the oldest in the Corps, gallantly charged and drove the enemy from a difficult and well-entrenched position on the Salkehatchie creek. The veterans of this noble command were m excellent plight, and were ready for the use of the bayonet or the musket. The creek where the rebels, to the number of two thousand, had entrenched themselves, was very wide and boggy. The gallant Smith directed the Second Brigade, Colonel Weaver commanding, to advance right into the swamp. The boys received the order with a cheer, and off they went in splendid style. A murderous fire was poured into their ranks. Nothing blanched, the sons of Illinois, Iowa and Ohio swept right on, shooting and charging until a cheer was heard, announcing the flight of the enemy. They form in a bold and definite line on the other of the creek; but the Eightieth Ohio Colonel Wetburn, and Fifty-sixth Illinois, Colonel Hall, led by the chivalrous Weaver, again pursued and routed the audacious foe. The Charleston Courier, speaking of this fight, pays a very high compliment to the courage and perseverance of our troops. It admits a very heavy loss to have been suffered by the Forty-seventh Georgia. It records a stubborn fact, when it says of the brave fellows: "That they determinedly rushed upon our work, when they were up to their knees in water." All honor to this gallant little brigade and its brave commander. The Division commander, General Smith, directed all the movements. He is a brave, generous, noble man, combining the generosity of both the gentleman and officer. Though in appearance austere, I am told that he is a very kind-hearted man. The First Division, commanded by General Woods, of Ohio, had the honor of skirmishing and fighting the enemy at the Wateree river, culminating in the capture of Columbia Colonel Stone's brigade, impatient to meet the enemy on the other side of the river, did not wait the laving of the pontoons, but improvised rude crafts and hurried over, amid the cheers of thousands.
THE CITIES AND TOWNS.
Columbia, the capital of the State, is a very handsome place, situated near the river, in the midst of an undulating country. A splendid prospect meets the eye in every direction. It is regularly and tastefully laid off, and the wide streets are shaded by rows of trees. The private residences are elegantly fashioned, and uniformly built. They indicate wealth and refinement. The gardens and public walks, for beauty and variety of flowers and ornamental trees, are unequaled by any that we have ever seen. The mansion of General Proston, is a truly, magnificent structure. It is commodious and elegant dwelling, and is arranged with taste and display. When I visited it was grandly furnished, with splendid carpets, plate, mirrors, library, and sculptured paintings.
Our first attention was directed to the superb paintings, many of them yet remaining in the splendid rooms. These pictures rank decidedly among the most perfect and most choice. Some of them are truly fascinating. The owner of this princely dwelling is in the rebel army. He is a brother of the eloquent W. C. Preston, and is possessed of many of his brother's gifts. The next house of importance is that of the famous Wade Hampton. It is surrounded by a lofty wall, and an enclosure, beautifully sprinkled with flowers and trees. In its construction it is very similar to the castles of the English lords. Several officers and soldiers were promenading in the grounds. General Hammond's mansion is of the gorgeous order, and is surrounded by a colonnade. The city of Columbia is sixty-five years old. Its population before the war was eight thousand.
The State House is a superb pile, and is justly celebrated in the South as one of the foremost of architectural beauties. Though incomplete, it cost over six millions of dollars. It was almost finished when the war broke out; the workmen, being from the North, left the city when the State seceded.
The Lunatic Asylum, the Methodist Female College, the State College, and the churches are splendid gems of architecture. They are indications of the wealth, elegance, and fine taste of the people. The eloquent and violent divine, Dr. Palmer, preaches here. He fled at the approach of our troops. His house was burned. Three noted rebel Generals have resided here— Gregg, Hampton, and Hood. The view of Columbia from the cupola of the Asylum, is enchanting. The morning was serene and lovely, and in the general aspect of the surrounding scenery, as well as in the brightness and purity of the heavens, the scenes became associated, in my mind, with the sacredness and quietude of the Sabbath.
THE BURNING OF COLUMBIA
In the evening of the 17th of February, before our troops entered the town, several bales of cotton were set on fire, it was supposed, by some rebel citizen. The wind blowing very heavily at the time, it spread with great rapidity, and in a few hours a whole block of Urge buildings, in Richardson Street, was in flames. From these it caught to the extensive rebel store rooms, to the Episcopal Church, thence to the Ursuline Convent, and thence to nearly every street in the city. Vast quantities of corn, flour, sugar, etc., were destroyed. The passenger depots, used as store houses, and filled with blankets and various other articles, were burned. Had it not been for the activity and magnanimous conduct of our troops, there would not be left one house as a shelter for those who fled from the smoking ruins of their burning dwellings.
I shall never forget the terrible scenes of that night. The sight was heart-rending; men, women and children rushed into the streets, from the showers of ashes and burning brands that were falling in all directions. The houses were soon emptied. Half-eaten suppers remained on splendid tables. The infuriated Negroes dashed four abreast through the deserted mansions, soon to be in flames. They glut their eyes on trunks and wardrobes. A few drunken soldiers push their bayonets into beds and tapestry. The cushioned carpets and splendidly gilt books are scattered everywhere. The mob spare nothing; ticks are ripped open, and rich laces lie in tatters. Chandeliers and crimson hangings are utterly destroyed. Silk dresses, just imported, costing ten thousand dollars, in long strips, stream out of the windows, and the Negroes below catch them, and make apron strings of them.
Among the many instances which took place during that dreadful night, this one is most touching, a lady who had just removed her trunks to a place of safety, suddenly remembered that one of her little children was missing from the family circle. She came up to the spot where the beautiful house once stood, sobbing as if her heart would break, and commenced searching for the lost one. In her phrensy, she thought the child to be burnt; she looked wildly agonizing. Perceiving a crowd of people, she rushed toward it, and beholding the sweet little fellow in the arms of a soldier, she cried: "It is my boy, it is my Charlie!" Then she paused, and drawing herself up to her full height, a prayer of gratitude breaks from her lips, and she beseeches the benediction of the God of Heaven on the gallant soldier, the savior of her child, and upon the holy cause in which we are engaged. Grasping the dear child, she called out, "Speak to me, Charlie." There was scarce an eye in the crowd, that was not moistened with tears.
Down into cellars and vaults the sable mob rushes, and bring up mouldy-topped bottles of wine. Sitting on the fragments of pianos they drink confusion to their runaway masters. The scene beggars all description. Timid and frantic women, in all the corners of the streets — they have flung themselves from their burning dwellings, and with their frightened little ones are gazing at the smouldering remains of their former elegant homes. The storm increases. At eleven o'clock it begins to blow from the south-west, and the fire spreads over the city in the opposite direction. The next morning, at two o'clock, every street was burning, and the whole city was awfully and solemnly illuminated. The turn out on the streets was immense, and the utmost excitement prevailed. Thousands of soldiers
did their best endeavors to stop the terrible display of fire. In Vain! The streets through which the fire raged were the principal ones of the place. Old men pronounced it the most terrible scene they had ever beheld. Think of twenty thousand, including all classes, suddenly turned out of doors. Scores who rose that morning with their thousands, are now penniless, homeless! Refined and cultivated ladies are seen, in beseeching attitudes, calling for help. They convulsively clasp their little ones to their bosoms, and then utter a piercing prayer to Heaven for deliverance. Few who were present, were unmoved at these scenes, and tears could be seen on many a soldier's cheek.
Hark! What a tremendous crash! The very earth quakes. It is the explosion of a vast quantity of powder the arsenal. What a gigantic fire— it blazes on all the adjacent squares! Thousands gather around it. The engines are dashing hither and thither.
The grand conflagration which destroyed the city, commenced about dark. The fire started near the rear of the jail. A high wind prevailed, and in a short time the flames were in full and unconquerable progress. The sky was one broad sheet of flame, above which, amid the lurid smoke, drifted in eddying circles, a myriad of sparks. These falling, scattered the seeds of conflagration on every side. The monotone of the hissing, waving, leaping tongues of flame, as they careered on their wild course, alone filled hearts with dismay. The air was like that of a furnace. The arsenal was burned to the ground. This vast and magnificent building, was wrapt in flame and smoke. As the wind swept the dense volumes away to the north-east, the southern slope of the root, appeared composed of molten gold, instinct with life and motion. It soon fell with a tremendous crash, and immediately, as if with fiendish joy, the destructive element in a huge column of mingled fire and smoke, leaped unto the very skies. Morning revealed to some extent, the broad sweep of destruction. Eighty-five blocks in the city were burned, and Columbia is the Palmyra in the desert. Five thousand citizens were houseless. From the State House to Cottontown, nothing but blackened ruins remained. The beautiful city of Columbia no longer existed. It is a mass of charred ruins — Herculaneum buried in ashes.
A SOLDIER’S ACCOUNT OF IT
On the 16th of February, the army of General Sherman met on the right bank of the Congaree River, opposite Columbia. In uniting, the right came into position on the left. The bridge over the Congaree and those over the Saluda and Broad Rivers, which unite and form the former about one mile shore Columbia, had been burned. (The latter streams are about as large, and the former perhaps twice as large as the Miami at this point.) To facilitate the crossing and to get into proper position, the Army of the Cumberland marched by the left flank, to a position about five miles, and the 15th Army Corps (Army of the Tennessee) about one mile up the Saluda from its junction with the Broad.
The 17th Army Corps, Army of Tennessee, went into camp on the bank of the Congaree within less than one mile from the center of the town. From our camp the whole city was in plain view. No troops, save a few skirmishers along the river, or citizens could be seen on the streets or about the town. I had never seen so much carelessness in exposing camps and troops, in plain view of a place occupied by rebels, and remarked to a captain of artillery that they could make us scatter by opening a battery on our camp, and the columns of troops marching on the road within musket shot of the town. "So they could: and I hope they will fire at us. We wish for a good excuse to blow the infernal town to the devil, and will do so on the first provocation. They know better, however, and will not disturb our sleep tonight." A few shots were exchanged between the pickets of the two armies across the Congaree and Saluda. Near our camp, and close by the road on which the 15th Army Corps was marching, were the remains of Camp Sorghum, where Federal officers had been kept as prisoners of war.
This camp, though occupying less space than is sufficient for that of 600 men, was crowded with 1,300 officers during the months of September and October, 1864 without huts, or shelter of any kind. Of late they had been supplied with some half dozen axes and shovels, with which they had dug cellars and constructed wigwams covered with earth. Streets and alleys had not been allowed for want of room, and these dog-houses were crowded together without any order whatever. As stories about the starvation of prisoners, sick, dying for want of attention, in the burning sun and another, which, for brutality, exceeds anything ever charged to Wirz, of a Lieutenant being hunted, mangled by bloodhound while trying to escape, brought back and allowed to die without any aid being given to him by his captors, or allowed to be given by his friends— were related by the escaped prisoners to the crowds of soldiers visiting this camp, they became furious with rage against Columbia. The feeling of the Army of Tennessee is well illustrated by a profane and ferocious doggerel, which was sung by hundreds in the 15th Army Corps.
"Hail Columbia, happy land,
If I don't barn you I’ll be d—d!"
This effusion was said to have been uttered by a Major General as he was crossing the Saluda. (It was not Sherman.) The doom of Columbia was decided at Camp Sorghum, and neither General Sherman nor any other man could have saved it from severe treatment, even had no other circumstances occurred. The 15th Army Corps crossed the Saluda with but little opposition, and encamped on the tongue of land between it and the Broad. Next morning (17th) about 8 A. M., loud and repeated explosions in the city were heard. At 9 A. M., an extensive fire was seen in the neighborhood of Charlotte railroad depot. From this to 11 A. M., cotton was seen burning in the streets. About this time brisk skirmishing was heard to the north of the city. Immediately a squad of soldiers from the 13th Iowa sprang into two small boats and paddled across the Congaree. On landing they started for the State House, in order to have the honor of raising the flag of their regiment on the building in advance of the 15th Army Corps. White flags were now seen on most of the houses and in the hands of citizens on the streets.
Just then the bugles of our division sounded strike tents, and we were in a few minutes on the route taken by the 15th Army Corps. As the route was encumbered with the trams of these troops, and so at five miles in length, we did not reach Columbia until about 8 P. M. As we marched through the town there was no sign or appearance of fire anywhere. Crowds of intoxicated soldiers were on the streets crying: "here's your whisky, here's your tobacco."
At 9 P. M., we reached our camp on the plantation of ex-Governor Adams, of slave trade revival notoriety. Scarcely had we gone into camp, when almost every other man came in with a box of Madeira wine on his shoulder, and a "high old time" was inaugurated.
It was reported that there were ten thousand bottles of the article in the ex-Governor's house, and a still larger quantity in that of Secretary Tenholm (pronounced Trennem). As to the amount, I can not say, but there was wine enough obtained from their houses to make more men in our division drunk than I ever saw in two years before. About 10 P. M. fire began to spread all over the city, and a noise from the grand revel could be heard.
About midnight an intimate friend who had been in the place from three o'clock in the afternoon, returned to the regiment and reported as follows: "The whole city is inflames and the whole army is drunk.” The place is swimming with liquor, brought from Savannah, Charleston and Wilmington by the blockade-runners and abandoned. The citizens, in their desire to please the soldiers, deluged them with it, and men, women and children were on the streets handing liquor to every blue-coat that came along. The guards have been changed three times already. As fast as they are changed they get drunk. The fire companies brought out their engines and our men cut the hose to pieces. No one, or scarcely any, will try to stay the spread of the flames. General Sherman has been burned out once, and General Howard three times. It is the biggest drunk and the greatest fire I ever heard of."
Next morning, in company with this same officer, I started to visit the ruins. On our way we met crowds of soldiers, "who were yelling, singing, waving gold watches, handfuls of gold, jewelry and rebel shinplasters in the air, and boasting of haying burned the town." One was staggerin
g under the weight of a huge basket filled high with silver plate. As we passed by the Lunatic Asylum we were surrounded by hundreds of men, women and children, begging for protection. On the grounds attached to this building were thousands whom the fire had rendered houseless and homeless, congregated at the only place of refuge left in the city. "Nearby, a crowd of soldiers, accompanied by a performer seated at a piano, were singing Brown." Arriving at Main Street, we saw a grand and true picture of war in all its grandeur and horrors. Three divisions of the Army of the Tennessee were marching down this street "in all the pomp and glorious circumstance” of holiday parade.
Each brigade was headed by a brass band, as if in mockery of the name and people of the city, playing such airs as "Hail Columbia," “Star Spangled banner," " Red, White and Blue." In the intervals of their performance, the drummers would strike up, “We’ll Rally Round the Flag," and "Kingdom Coming." Flags were flying on which were inscribed the same of every battle-field from Wilson's Creek, on the West, and Fort Donaldson, on the East, to Vicksburg, from Memphis to Chattanooga, and from Chickamauga to Savannah. Beneath these flags, and to this music, the men from the Northwest, physically larger and stronger than any troops in the service on either side, bronzed by exposure, and blackened by the smoke from Ares of pine, their clothes ragged, were marching with the firm step and steady tramp of veterans, entirely indifferent to the scenes around them. Oh this street, for near one mile, there was not a single house standing, and on a space as large as this city there were not twenty.
Personal Recollections of Sherman's Campaigns in Georgia and the Carolinas Page 30
