Hood’s case was hurt by his untimely death from yellow fever in 1879. At the time, his memoir remained unpublished and P. G. T. Beauregard took on that responsibility as part of an effort to raise money for the Hood orphan fund. Advance and Retreat gives a strong impression of being incomplete and reads like a rough draft. It appears that Hood became distracted by Johnston’s ravings, which caused Hood to meander away from his main purpose (to write a cogent memoir) and instead write a chapter titled “Reply to General Johnston,” which takes up 80 pages and turned the book into a polemic.
Though much of the well-researched information contained in “the reply” could have been useful if employed in other areas, the argument with Johnston had no place within the book. Hood instead could have used his memoir as a platform to explain his experiences and actions. In this way, he could have answered much of the criticism directed against him and preempted much of what came in the future. Advance and Retreat would also have become a valuable historical document, but as it stands, it is frustratingly incomplete. We have no way of knowing whether or not Hood would have chosen, or been advised, to edit or modify what he had written.
Some modern Atlanta Campaign historians tend to side with Hood, at least in saying that opportunities existed for Johnston to seriously injure Sherman’s army and greatly delay its advance into Georgia. Had Johnston attacked Sherman’s vulnerable supply line with more determination, for example, he may have postponed the conquest of Atlanta until after the crucial 1864 United States presidential election. Basically, the strategy of attack on Sherman’s railroad came down to an argument between Johnston, Jefferson Davis, and Braxton Bragg. The latter two contended that Johnston had sufficient cavalry to accomplish the task, rather than employing Nathan Bedford Forrest’s horsemen, who busied themselves turning back Federal raids into Mississippi, which Johnston wanted. Historian Richard McMurry writes, “This impasse continued all through the remaining weeks of Johnston’s command. As with the winter discussion of strategy for 1864, Johnston in Georgia and Davis in Richmond were unwilling or unable to trust each other. Nothing was decided on; nothing was resolved; nothing was done.”20 Sometime toward the end of May, Johnston came to believe, despite his inability to halt Sherman’s advance, that “appearances to the contrary—his efforts had been a great strategic success.”21 A great part of this delusional optimism came from grossly overestimating Sherman’s losses. For example, Johnston’s chief of staff wrote glowingly on May 30, “We have thus far succeeded in making … [Sherman] pay three of four [casualties] for every one of ours …if we can keep this up, we win.”22 Even in his memoirs Johnston made the ludicrous claim that he had inflicted 60,000 casualties on Sherman while sustaining fewer than 10,000 losses.23
Lost Cause artists who strove to stigmatize Hood ignored or minimized these facts. The more Hood wrote in reply to Johnston’s criticisms, the more they responded in kind toward him. Unfortunately for Hood, his memoirs were not published until after his death. At the end of a steamy New Orleans summer, Hood fought his last battle, this time against yellow fever, following his wife, Anna Marie, and eldest daughter Lydia to the grave on August 30, 1879. His last wish had been that the Texas brigade veterans take care of his ten orphaned children. Following his wife’s passing on the twenty-fourth, members of his old brigade had written to him, stating in conclusion, that though “the pall of sadness has fallen on you and yours. Your old comrades share your poignant grief.”24
The ever critical Southern Historical Society compressed its obituary of Hood into a few words: “The death of General John B. Hood …is announced just as we are going to press, and we have only space to say that another gallant soldier, true patriot and highly atoned gentleman has fallen at the post of duty.” Though Jubal Early gave a brief speech in General Hood’s memory in November of that year, it is notable that his words did not appear within the papers.25
In striking contrast, national newspapers displayed more sympathy and recounted Hood’s career in greater detail. The Chicago Tribune stated: “At dawn this morning, Gen. John B. Hood, the distinguished Confederate Chieftain, breathed his last … Gen. Hood’s malady was the result of over-anxiety and care, watching at the bedside of his devoted wife. He truly dies of a broken heart.”26 Though the New York Herald often echoed critical voices, it also stated that “Hood’s thorough knowledge of the ‘trade of war,’ and his force of character … courtesy and judgment … impressed officers and men alike with a sense of his fitness for command.”27 Closer to home, scribes wrote in even more complimentary terms. The New Orleans Times commented: “It has been said … that he led his men into appalling perils, but …it must [also] be remembered that it was his fortune to participate in battles that were essentially desperate and that the humblest of his soldiers was never asked to go where he could not see his general also.” The writer concluded by stating that following the war Hood had developed into a “good citizen [and] honorable businessman.”28
The most complimentary analysis came from New Orleans’s largest paper, the Daily Picayune. Its writer not only stated that Hood would “always rank among the bravest and most chivalric of … Confederate leaders,” but directly addressed controversy about his appointment to command the Army of Tennessee, by affirming, “Hood’s splendid field record was eminently that of a fighting general,” and, in a swipe at Johnston, “That was what the department deemed was needed—fighting.” The Daily Picayune writer finished with a tribute to the general’s memory, stating, “Hood was known to everyone in this city, and by everyone respected and admired.” He had a “quiet dignified manner,” an “amiable expression of countenance,” a “genial disposition,” and a “well-informed mind.” Underlining all of this praise, the obituary declared that “The very soul of honor and knighthood lived in that shattered frame.”29
In contrast, Southern Historical Society writers assailed Hood after death for contributing to Confederate defeat. As previously mentioned, according to the Lost Cause, Gettysburg stood as the “high water mark” for the South. Following that battle, so it was argued, Confederate fortunes had nowhere to go but down. Brian Miller writes that “Hood’s role at Gettysburg dominated conversation for several decades following the war.”30 Hood had favored a turning movement around Little Round Top, rather than a direct assault, which he thought would prove successful in routing the Union position and less costly in terms of casualties. Cadmus Wilcox was convinced that Hood’s three “inquiries about a change of attack delayed the entire advance of the Confederate force.” In other words, Wilcox blamed the attack’s ultimate failure on Hood, and his analysis appeared in the Southern Historical Society Papers in 1878. In truth Hood’s questioning of Lee’s orders formed only a small part of many large problems encountered by Confederates on that hot July afternoon.31
The most outrageous claim blamed Hood for Sherman’s March to the Sea. Following the fall of Atlanta, Hood withdrew from Georgia into Tennessee with the aim of liberating Nashville, thus compelling Sherman to return to the defense of Kentucky and perhaps Ohio. Ignoring the fact that Hood’s plans for the Tennessee Campaign had been developed in concert with President Davis and Generals Bragg and Beauregard, the society chose to stigmatize Hood alone, insisting that “the movement of General Hood, ill-advised and pregnant with disaster, left the State of Georgia fairly open to a Federal advance.”32 This analysis also ignored the very real possibility of Confederate success had Hood been able to reach the Tennessee capital sooner than he did. It is also an “analysis” carried out largely with the aid of historical hindsight and a full knowledge of how badly things turned out in the end, rather than taking into account the Confederacy’s precarious position and hopes for success at the time.
If someone should be “blamed” for the March to the Sea, it should rightly be Sherman. After all, it had been his responsibility, given by General Grant, to corner and destroy Hood’s Army of Tennessee. As we know, Sherman tired of the chase, petitioned Grant to be allowed to march on Savan
nah, and left George Thomas in charge of affairs in the Volunteer State. Moreover, using our own historical hindsight, we can see that Hood had almost no chance of defeating Sherman’s great army in 1864 or any other year. Kennesaw Mountain historian Dennis Kelly remarked, “Even if the South had Alexander the Great and Napoleon Bonaparte … it would not have been able to stop Sherman.”33
In the process of denigrating Hood, Southern Historical Society writers also improved the reputations of favored Confederate commanders such as Nathan Bedford Forrest. With Hood conveniently in his grave, former Army of Tennessee cavalry general James Chalmers claimed that had Forrest been in command at Spring Hill instead of Hood, Schofield would never have gotten away. Chalmers disregarded the fact that on the night of November 29 at Spring Hill Hood specifically asked Forrest to block the Franklin Pike, but for various reasons he failed to do so. Instead Forrest spewed forth “volumes” of impotent wrath at other Confederate commanders the following morning. How well would Forrest have done commanding a full army? Since his best previous experience was at cavalry corps level, and his only command of infantry ended in failure at Selma, Alabama, in the closing weeks of the war, we will never know. Similar questions have been raised in a somewhat different context about Stonewall Jackson. Forrest may not have been any better equipped for the additional responsibility than John Bell Hood. To argue otherwise is simply to engage in counterfactual debate.34
Miller writes that as late as 1959 the Southern Historical Society published remarks from the Confederate Congressional Record from 1865, employing Hood as the culprit for failures by Johnston. The Tennessee congressman Henry Foote complained bitterly that “the Army of Tennessee had been rudely deprived of its noble and gallant leader, General Johnston,” and that since Hood had taken command “there had been nothing in that quarter but an avalanche of misfortune.” What Foote failed to mention, however, is that by this time in the war, the Confederacy as a whole was experiencing an “avalanche of misfortune.” Whoever had command in the West would wind up as a scapegoat, regardless of their previous accomplishments. By inserting this critique among its writings, the Southern Historical Society thus managed to stain Hood’s reputation in the Confederate Congressional Record.35
The Southern Historical Society constructed a blueprint for Hood, built by historians, particularly from 1940 onward. Three writers from Tennessee stand out as particularly dominant: Stanley Horn, Thomas Connelly, and James Lee McDonough. Wiley Sword, though not a Tennessean, joined this group of anti-Hood scribes in 1992 with publication of The Confederacy’s Last Hurrah. In recent years, Hood has experienced something of a renaissance, with writers such as Richard McMurry, Russell Bonds, Eric Jacobson, and Stephen Davis taking a more nuanced view. An important question is: Was the Lost Cause-promoted derisive image of General Hood universal in the immediate postwar years?
After time spent in Texas during the 1850s, and experience with the men of the Texas brigade, Hood wanted to make his home in the Lone Star state following the war. Financial realities, however, dictated otherwise. He did visit Texas and the men of his old command several times, primarily to take part in veteran activities. The San Antonio Herald editorialized on one of these occasions: “It does our heart good to welcome back … after an absence of over four years, this truly great and gallant officer, soldier and gentleman.” The writer noted sympathetically that Hood’s “manly form has been hacked and pierced until it is now shorn of some of it fair proportions.” Despite this, the correspondent remarked, “The general is in fine spirits and the full enjoyment of his health.”36
The Texas brigade, with Hood as its leader, stands out among Civil War combat units. Whenever Robert E. Lee needed decisive action to tip the scales of battle, Hood’s men were often employed as shock troops. Examples include Gaines’s Mill, Second Manassas, Sharpsburg, and Gettysburg. After riding over the ground upon which the Texans made their attack at Gaines’s Mill, Stonewall Jackson exclaimed, “The men who carried this position were soldiers indeed!” This was high praise from Jackson, known to be sparing in his compliments.37 Dr. Harold B. Simpson writes that “the Hood-Texas brigade combination … was a great fighting machine, one of the best produced in America.”38
Moreover, Richard McMurry remarks that “Hood led the brigade … [in] a series of engagements that won for it a reputation unmatched in Civil War annals.”39 The men felt a particular affection for their commander. Infantryman Tine Owen of the Fourth Texas Infantry (Hood’s first command), for example, reacted with disappointment to news that his new baby brother had been named “William Travis” instead of “John Hood.”40
The Texas Brigade Association, established in 1872, aimed to preserve the memory of its commander and his men. Though active in group affairs, Hood found himself restricted by financial and health concerns and attended only two reunions. At the first, held in 1872, many veterans saw their old leader for the first time since Chickamauga. There Hood found himself “greeted with great enthusiasm … [and] called to the chair by acclamation.”41 At Hood’s second and final reunion in 1877, held in Waco, the general found his speech “constantly interrupted by the cheers of old comrades,” and “heavy applause.”42
One month prior to Hood’s death, on July 9, 1879, members at the reunion held in Palestine, Texas, passed a resolution guaranteeing him free transportation to all future reunions.43 Harold Simpson comments that heavy financial losses had left Hood in dire circumstances, not helped by the yellow fever epidemic that struck New Orleans the previous year, and that these circumstances motivated the association’s resolution. Following Hood’s death, at a special meeting in Houston on September 13, 1879, members put forth plans to offer help to the Hood orphans. In the end, the Texas brigade Association involved itself in the welfare of their late general’s children for 20 years.44 The 1887 reunion, held at Austin, displayed dramatic evidence of enduring affection for Hood. One speaker, Major Howdy Martin, after thrilling his audience with an account of Texan exploits at Gettysburg, where Hood had been severely wounded, displayed the general’s frock coat, whose “bloodstains and … missing sleeve [gave] mute evidence to … sacrifice offered.” Overcome with emotion, the old soldiers crowded around the speaker’s platform, many with tears in their eyes, and “sacredly touched the garment, some even kissing it and clasping it to their breasts.”45
Joseph Johnston’s memoirs had been in circulation since 1873 and Lost Cause architects had been chipping away at Hood’s reputation almost from the end of the war, yet this made no difference to Texans who had fought under Hood in the East and at Chickamauga. These men had seen greater casualty rates than those suffered by the Army of Tennessee, including Gaines’s Mill, where losses stood at 40 percent or more. That battle included a frontal assault on fortified enemy positions, yet it represented a definitive victory and had been ordered by General Lee. The Texas brigade fought with Hood at a time when Confederate hopes had been high. Gaines’s Mill represented one of a series of battles that drove Unionists out of Virginia while Tennessee, on the other hand, happened in the autumn of the Confederacy’s existence. The men of the Texas brigade remembered their battles differently than did the Texans who marched through the cruel Tennessee winter of 1864. In short, anyone who had been in command at that time, even Joe Johnston, would likely have been made a scapegoat.
Richmond Examiner editor and original Lost Cause historian E. A. Pollard wrote that Hood had “a lion’s heart and a wooden head.” Other Southern Historical Society writers alleged that Army of Tennessee soldiers commonly referred to their general as “Old Woodenhead,”46 thus easily attaching a derogatory label on Hood, insulting his intellect. Yet implications about Hood’s intelligence “appear to be retrospective,” originating from a campaign led by postwar Lost Cause and pro-Johnston partisans.”47 From such techniques, one does not need to travel far to come upon Wiley Sword’s The Confederacy’s Last Hurrah. Clearly, “historians” of the Jubal Early school wanted Hood to be not only the scapegoat for C
onfederate disaster in the West, but a stupid man as well. This is too often the portrait painted by modern historians, in particular Horn, Connelly, McDonough, and Sword. The Lost Cause dominated early perceptions and it continues to influence historical output concerning the Civil War, assigning specific roles to actors in America’s great national tragedy.
The historical roles that Civil War actors would play became clear in the years following the conflict. In many cases a man’s funeral reflected his place within the hierarchy of wartime leadership. Sometimes this occurred by design and other times because of circumstances in their lives. George Thomas, due to his solid performance and pivotal role in the Northern victory, and Robert E. Lee, because of his recognized position as the premier general of the Confederacy, both passed from life with dignified ceremony and national publicity. By contrast John Bell Hood’s end-of-life observances were more subdued. At the time of his death in 1879 the seeds of blame for the Kentuckian had been planted, saddling him with the mantle of scapegoat, not only for Gettysburg but also for the Southern defeat in the West. A victim of poverty caused by a severe yellow fever epidemic, Hood exited life’s stage in quiet obscurity.
Nine years earlier on the rainy morning of March 28, 1870, newly appointed United States Army Pacific Division commander General George Thomas sat down in his San Francisco office to respond to a letter that had appeared in the New York Tribune on March 12, questioning his generalship in defeating Hood. The anonymous letter claimed that Tennessee had been saved not at Nashville but two weeks earlier at Franklin, thus crowning John M. Schofield as the real victor over Hood.48 Although on March 19 another letter was published defending Thomas, the public exchange upset the principled Unionist Virginian.
John Bell Hood: The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of a Confederate General Page 2