He met--both.
It was recognized by both the Northern and Southern armies that Johnston was a formidable antagonist. That he was a man of most magnetic personality as well as a brave officer.
Where he led men followed.
The Black Hawk War made his name familiar throughout the country. In the War with Mexico he won distinction.
As he reviewed his troops at Shiloh, he beheld on every side his friends of other days, and men who had served under him on other fields.
When the War between the States came on, Johnston was a brigadier general in the United States Army; and although he was offered any position he might desire with the Federal government, he resigned to cast his lot with the South, and against the land of his ancestry, for he was a son of Connecticut. Texas had been his home, and to the Lone Star State he felt his allegiance due.
Disappointment, as pertained to his life ambitions, had often before waited upon his footsteps when the thing desired seemed ready to his grasp. Yet, seeing his duty clearly, he did it.
To his sister by marriage, when she, in surprise at his action in resigning, wrote him in California, where he was then stationed, he replied that he was deeply sensible of the "calamitious condition" of the country; and that whatever his part thereafter regarding it, he congratulated himself that no act of his had aided in bringing it about; that the adjustment of the difficulties by the sword was not in his judgment the remedy.
Secession was to him a grievous thing.
Arriving at Richmond from the West, General Johnston was given the command of the Western Department of the Confederacy.
From September to February, 1862, he held the line against heavy odds at Bowling Green, Ky., when he retreated to Corinth, Miss., where he a.s.sembled his entire army and attacked Grant at Shiloh Church near Pittsburg Landing, Tenn.
In the flush tide of a great victory, he was struck by a Minie ball and expired in a few moments.
He rode a magnificent black animal called "Fire-eater." On horseback General Johnston appeared to distinct advantage. The masterly manner in which he sat his horse attracted the attention of the commander in chief of the army, Thomas J. Rusk, during the Texan Revolution, and procured him the appointment of adjutant general over several eager aspirants for the position.
As he pa.s.sed along the lines to the front of the troops at Shiloh, he raised his hat and cried out,
"I will lead you!"
To this the men responded with a mighty cheer and quickened movement, albeit they knew he was leading many of them to death.
Hard up the slopes they pressed.
Nor shot, nor sh.e.l.l, nor falling men deterred them.
The summit was reached. The Federals were in retreat. A little apart from the others, a fine target for the deadly marksman, the figure of General Johnston on "Fire-eater" was plainly visible.
His clothing was torn in places. His boot sole was slashed by a ball, but he himself was uninjured.
In his countenance was reflected a satisfaction of the day"s results.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FROM THE LAST LINE OF THE RETREATING FEDERALS A BULLET WHISTLED BACK, WHISTLED BACK AND CUT HIM DOWN.]
The wisdom of his decisions had been proven; his judgment justified.
From the last line of the retreating Federals a bullet whistled back, whistled back and cut him down, did its fatal work in the very moment in which he felt the conviction that success now lay with the Confederate cause.
His death seemed for a time to paralyze the further efforts of his troops, to whom his presence had been a continual inspiration.
General Beauregard took command.
Night fell and the battle was stayed.
The Federals had been driven to the banks of the Tennessee River, where the gunboats afforded but meager protection.
From Nashville, General Buell arrived before daybreak with the needed reenforcements. Lew Wallace came in. Grant a.s.sumed the offensive; and the afternoon of the second day of the hard-fought contest the final victory swept to the Federals.
What would have been the result to the Confederate cause had the great leader not fallen that first day, who can say?
"In his fall, the great pillar of the Southern Confederacy was crushed,"
says Jefferson Davis in his _Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government_, "and beneath its fragments the best hope of the Southland lay buried."
ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON
I HEAR again the tread of war go thundering through the land, And Puritan and Cavalier are clinching neck and hand, Round Shiloh church the furious foes have met to thrust and slay, Where erst the peaceful sons of Christ were wont to kneel and pray.
The wrestling of the ages shakes the hills of Tennessee With all their echoing mounts athrob with war"s wild minstrelsy; A galaxy of stars new-born around the shield of Mars And set against the Stars and Stripes the flashing Stars and Bars.
"Twas Albert Sidney Johnston led the columns of the Gray, Like Hector on the plains of Troy his presence fired the fray; And dashing horse and gleaming sword spake out his royal will As on the slopes of Shiloh field the blasts of war blew shrill.
"Down with the base invaders," the Gray shout forth the cry, "Death to presumptuous rebels," the Blue ring out reply; All day the conflict rages and yet again all day, Though Grant is on the Union side he cannot stem nor stay.
They are a royal race of men, these brothers face to face, Their fury speaking through their guns, their frenzy in their pace; The sweeping onset of the Gray bears down the st.u.r.dy Blue, Though Sherman and his legions are heroes through and through.
Though Prentiss and his gallant men are forcing scaur and crag, They fall like sheaves before the scythes of Hardee and of Bragg; Ah, who shall tell the victor"s tale when all the strife is past, When, man and man, in one great mold, the men who strive are cast?
As when the Trojan hero came from that fair city"s gates, With tossing mane and flaming crest to scorn the scowling fates, His legions gather round him and madly charge and cheer, And fill besieging armies with wild disheveled fear;
Then bares his breast unto the dart the daring spearsman sends, And dying hears his cheering foes, the wailing of his friends, So Albert Sidney Johnston, the chief of belt and scar, Lay down to die at Shiloh and turned the scales of war.
Now five and twenty years are gone, and lo, to-day they come, The Blue and Gray in proud array with throbbing fife and drum; But not as rivals, not as foes, as brothers reconciled; To twine love"s fragrant roses where the thorns of hate grew wild;
Aye, five and twenty years, and lo, the manhood of the South Has held its valor staunch and strong as at the cannon"s mouth, With patient heart and silent tongue has kept its true parole, And in the conquests born of peace has crowned its battle roll.
But ever while we sing of war, of courage tried and true, Of heroes wed to gallant deeds, or be it Gray or Blue, Then Albert Sidney Johnston"s name shall flash before our sight Like some resplendent meteor across the somber night.
America, thy sons are knit with sinews wrought of steel, They will not bend, they will not break, beneath the tyrant"s heel; But in the white-hot flame of love, to silken cobwebs spun, They whirl the engines of the world, all keeping time as one.
To-day they stand abreast and strong, who stood as foes of yore, The world leaps up to bless their feet, heaven scatters blessings o"er; Their robes are wrought of gleaming gold, their wings are freedom"s own, The trampling of their conquering hosts shakes pinnacle and throne.
Oh, veterans of the Blue and Gray who fought on Shiloh field, The purposes of G.o.d are true, His judgment stands revealed; The pangs of war have rent the veil, and lo, His high decree: One heart, one hope, one destiny, one flag from sea to sea.
KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD.