Our Hearts Were Almost Rent Asunder: The Burial of General McPherson

    158 years ago today, Major General James Birdseye McPherson lost his life in the opening stages of the Battle of Atlanta. The 35-year-old native of Clyde, Ohio was then in command of the Army of the Tennessee and his death made him the highest ranking Federal officer killed during the Civil War. A widely beloved and respected figure within the army, the news of McPherson's death so impacted General Ulysses S. Grant, then fighting Robert E. Lee around Petersburg, Virginia, that Grant reportedly retired to his tent and sobbed like a child.  

General James B. McPherson's monument in McPherson Cemetery in Clyde is easily seen from busy U.S. 20 highway which runs along the southside of the cemetery. It is a striking monument and bears a remarkable resemblance to McPherson; he stands in dress uniform pointing to the west with his field glasses in hand. 


    McPherson's body was recovered on the afternoon of July 22, 1864 (see story here) and returned home to his family in Ohio accompanied by three members of his staff. The funeral occurred on July 29, 1864 and was a public event attended by hundreds of townspeople, local dignitaries, and dozens Civil War veterans including Franklin Sawyer of the 8th Ohio, Colonel John R. Bond of the 111th Ohio, and Colonel Henry Kingsbury of the 14th Ohio. "Among the relatives of General McPherson we noticed his aged grandmother who, at the age of 87, is able to the walk the considerable distance from the house to the place of the funeral thence to the place of internment," a newspaper reporter from the Toledo Blade observed.

     A company from the 13th U.S. Infantry escorted McPherson's casket and a funeral procession consisting of the 128th Ohio and the 24th Ohio Battery followed behind the hearse which traveled from McPherson's boyhood home to the nearby McPherson family orchard where the funeral ceremonies were held. The Reverend T.F. Hildreth of Tiffin gave the funeral sermon citing a verse from Matthew stating "render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and to God the things which are God's." Hildreth stated that "it is our duty to love our country, to render all honor to her and hold all that is ours ready for sacrifice in her defense. If we enjoy its benefits, we owe it upon the authority of God the most cheerful and implicit obedience."

The plaque upon General McPherson's monument describes his services during the Civil War, much of which was with his beloved Army of the Tennessee. McPherson early on became a member of General U.S. Grant's staff and saw service with him as early as Shiloh; the Ohioan served with Grant through Vicksburg and joined his fellow Buckeye William T. Sherman's army in time for the Atlanta campaign. McPherson rests today surrounded by dozens of the veterans of the 72nd Ohio, another Army of the Tennessee regiment that had its baptism of fire at Shiloh. General McPherson isn't the only noteworthy soldier buried at McPherson Cemetery Among them is Captain Charles McCleary of the 72nd Ohio who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions capturing a flag during the Battle of Nashville in December 1864. This small town cemetery also includes a veteran of the Revolutionary War, the grave of the first American killed in the Spanish American War, and the grave of a second Medal of Honor recipient, Rodger Young of the 37th Division who lost his life during WWII. 

      The pall bearers consisted of six U.S. Army officers, three serving in the Regular Army and three more serving in Federalized Ohio National Guard regiments then on duty at nearby Johnson's Island prisoner of war camp.  Once arriving at the grave, Reverend Wheeler of Sandusky conducted the burial service and following three volleys fired by the 128th Ohio, General McPherson was consigned to his native soil. 

     I visited General McPherson's gravesite today in Clyde, Ohio to pay my respects to this prominent Buckeye hero of the Civil War. However bucolic the scene may have been when General McPherson was interred in 1864, the scene today is overwhelmed by the constant traffic sounds on busy U.S. 20 on the south side of the cemetery. Diesel-powered pickups seemed to be the worst as they roared through town to the tune of "Save Your Horse, Ride a Cowboy" blaring at 120 decibels from one particularly obnoxious vehicle. The road noise was punctuated by the blaring train horns from an equally busy railroad track just a block or so away from the cemetery. It was decidedly not a place for quiet contemplation on a Friday afternoon, but the local historical society and the city are to be commended for the superb condition of the monument and the grounds. 

    As I stood at McPherson's grave, I pondered a bit on why he is remembered, or isn't. The fact was that I was the only one in the cemetery and I was there for more than an hour. The Ohio Historical Society has signs on both ends of U.S. 20 announcing that Clyde was McPherson's hometown, so it's no secret that he buried there. His monument can't be missed as it rests atop the highest ground in the cemetery and is easily visible from the road.  But 21st century life moves at its own breakneck pace, and perhaps pondering the significance of a life given more than 150 years ago in a war that a major portion of the U.S. population would just as soon forget ever happened seems quite "old-fashioned." I've been accused before of having an "old soul," so I guess I should just own it. 

    Without a doubt, James B. McPherson is a significant figure in the American Civil War. He was the highest ranking Union general killed in action during the war, so that fact alone gives him a certain notoriety. That he was a close friend of both Grant and Sherman, two titans in U.S. military history, ensures that he would get more than a passing glance from any student of the war. For us Ohioans, he is considered one of our noblest war heroes, a martyr in the cause of securing freedom. 

McPherson's monument is surrounded by four brass James' rifles, two of which were cast at Miles Greenwood's Eagle Foundry in Cincinnati in 1862. The other two pieces were cast by Ames of Boston, one in 1846 and the other in 1861. I found it rather fitting that the grave of Ohio's highest ranking casualty of the Civil War is "defended" by two cannons cast in his native state. 


    In 21st century terms, McPherson was a "good dude." He was hard-working, diligent, highly intelligent, possessing a gentle giving spirit, and had a deep sense of honor. He was an easy companion, a good conversationalist, rather shy and retiring, thoroughly devoted to duty. McPherson was popular with both his West Point comrades, and with his enlisted men who always remembered his kind disposition and gentle manner of command. This was certainly a rare achievement in a war marked by tensions and misunderstandings between West Pointers and the armies they led. His grandmother Lydia Slocum remembered that "in childhood, he was obedient and kind; in manhood, noble and persevering, looking to the wants of others."

    As I stood at his grave, I couldn't help but thinking about McPherson's sterling character, juxtaposed against the awfulness of his last moments upon earth. It was a hot July day, much like it was today at the cemetery. The thunder of guns and musketry were all around him as he galloped from one end of his line to another. The Federal army was driving on Atlanta and now that his old West Point comrade John Bell Hood was in command, McPherson expected matters to assume a more dangerous character.

    Despite this sense of increased danger, he had every reason to believe that the road he was on when he was shot was a safe one. Federal troops had just marched through the area unscathed a few minutes before. And McPherson wasn't alone; Andrew J. Thompson of the 4th Independent Company of Ohio Cavalry rode at his side while a detachment of Signal Corpsmen trailed not many yards behind. The General had just spoken with Captain John B. Raymond of General Mortimer Leggett's staff, and Raymond was galloping back to Leggett 50 yards ahead of him when McPherson and Thompson heard a roar of musketry, and saw Raymond's horse slump off the road and expire, throwing Captain Raymond into the brush.

    McPherson kept to the road which bent to the right, little knowing that an advancing of line of Confederates were approaching the road on his left. The grayclad skirmishers spied the two horsemen and yelled out for them to halt. McPherson, for the first time seeing the Confederates, tipped his hat "as politely as though saluting a lady" one Confederate noted, swung his horse around, dug in his spurs, and tried to gallop out of danger. He didn't make it far; a Rebel bullet fired at close range pierced his right lower back and passed upwards through his chest, exiting near his heart. McPherson tumbled off his horse and fell heavily into the road while his terrified horse galloped back to Union lines. (In a sad coda, the horse would subsequently be returned to McPherson's family in Ohio were several years later the horse would kick McPherson's brother in the head, ultimately killing him.)

This lonely stretch of jack-oak swamp has been identified as the location where General McPherson was shot down and died. The wagon wheel and cannon shells are likely props added to spice up what otherwise is an unspectacular bit of swamp. 


    Orderly Thompson had swung his horse with McPherson and was lying close to the horse's neck when he struck a tree branch and was thrown off, landing a few yards from his dying General. Thompson quickly gathered his wits and ran to his General's side imploring, "General, are you hurt?" McPherson's last words were "Oh orderly, I am," and soon McPherson turned himself over, straightened out, and began "quivering and trembling like an aspen. He was then in the death throes and never spoke afterwards," Thompson wrote. Within moments, James Birdseye McPherson's spirit flew, leaving chaos and confusion in its wake. Black Jack Logan would, in his finest hour of the war, take command of McPherson's army and lead them to a perilous if glorious victory, making this battle the pride of the Army of the Tennessee. But McPherson's demise would continue to have repercussions to the army's command structure for some time to come. 

Like McPherson's grave in Clyde, the marker in Atlanta indicating where McPherson fell is now surrounded by a busy residential neighborhood. (Photo by William Bechmann) 


    McPherson's death cast a pall upon this small northern Ohio farming community. Already the region had suffered the deaths of so many of its young men sent off to battle. Only a week before, news came of the death of Major Eugene Rawson of the 72nd Ohio, and he was only the latest in a long line of promising young men whose lives had been cut short by what one local resident acidly called "this planter's rebellion." 

    But the loss of McPherson struck his family the hardest. Three years before, McPherson stopped home for a short visit on the way to the western theater to join Grant. It was the last time the family ever saw their soldier boy. Three years later, his body lay in state in this same parlor where three years before his family wished him Godspeed. 

     Now 87-year-old Lydia Slocum tried to explain her grief to General U.S. Grant in an extraordinary letter. "When it was announced to us by telegraph that our loved one had fallen, our hearts were almost rent asunder, but when we heard the commander-in-chief could weep with us, too, we felt, sir, that you have been as a father to him and this whole nation is mourning his early death," she wrote. "His grave is on an eminence but a few rods from where the funeral services were attended and near the grave of his father. The grave, no doubt, will be marked so that passers-by will often pause to drop a tear over the dear departed."

    And so I did today, in honor of General McPherson, and in memory of the tears of his grandmother shed so long ago. I share below the letters that Lydia and General Grant exchanged in the aftermath of McPherson's demise. 


Major General James Birdseye McPherson of Clyde, Ohio


Clyde, Ohio

August 3, 1864

 To General Grant, dear sir,

          I hope you will pardon me for troubling you with the perusal of these few lines from the trembling hand of the aged grandma of our beloved General James B. McPherson who fell in battle. When it was announced at his funeral from the public print that when General Grant heard of his death, he went into his tent and wept like a child, my heart went out in thanks to you for the interest you manifested in him while he was with you. I have watched his progress from infancy up. In childhood, he was obedient and kind; in manhood, noble and persevering, looking to the wants of others. Since he entered the war, others can appreciate his worth more than I can.

          When it was announced to us by telegraph that our loved one had fallen, our hearts were almost rent asunder, but when we heard the commander-in-chief could weep with us, too, we felt, sir, that you have been as a father to him and this whole nation is mourning his early death.

Lydia Slocum (Courtesy of Gene Smith)


          I wish to inform you that his remains were conducted by a kind guard to the very parlor where he spent a cheerful evening in 1861 with his widowed mother, two brothers, only sister, and his aged grandma who is now trying to write. In the morning, he took his leave at 6 o’clock little dreaming he should fall by a ball from the enemy. His funeral services were attended in his mother’s orchard where his youthful feet had often pressed the soil to gather the falling fruit, and his remains are resting in the silent grave scarce a half mile from the place of his birth.

His grave is on an eminence but a few rods from where the funeral services were attended and near the grave of his father. The grave, no doubt, will be marked so that passers-by will often pause to drop a tear over the dear departed. And now, dear friend, a few lines from you would be gratefully received by the afflicted friends. I pray that the God of battles may be with you and go forth with your armies till rebellion shall cease, the Union be restored, and the old flag wave over our entire land.

With much respect, I remain your friend,

Lydia Slocum, aged 87 years and 4 months

 

Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant

A week later, General Grant responded with a personal note from his headquarters at City Point, Virginia outside of Petersburg:

         

Headquarters, Armies of the United States

City Point, Virginia

August 10, 1864

Mrs. Lydia Slocum, my dear madam,

          Your very welcome letter of the 3rd instant has just reached me. I am glad to know the relations of the late lamented Major General McPherson are aware of the more than friendship existing between him and myself. A nation grieves at the loss of one so dear to our nation’s cause. It is a selfish grief because the nation had more to expect from him than from almost anyone now living. I join in this selfish grief, and add the grief of personal love for the departed. He formed for some time one of my military family. I knew him well. To know him was but to love him. It may be some consolation to you, his aged grandmother, to know that every officer and every soldier who served under your grandson felt the highest reverence for his zeal, his great almost unequaled ability, his amiability, and all the manly virtues that can adorn a commander. Your bereavement is great, but it cannot exceed mine.

Yours truly,

U.S. Grant, Lieutenant General

Another view of the McPherson marker in Atlanta courtesy of friend of the blog John Croland. 


 Source:

“The Late General McPherson,” Toledo Daily Commercial (Ohio), August 25, 1864, pg. 2

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