A Higher Reputation: How Newspapers Reported the Death of John Bell Hood

During the last week of August 1879, a family tragedy unfolded in New Orleans.

The wave of Yellow Fever cases which normally swept through the Crescent City like the storm surge of a hurricane, did not have the same effect as in recent years. The epidemic of 1879 instead wreaked havoc on former Confederate General John Bell Hood and his family. A pall of sadness fell over their stately home on the corner of Third and Camp Streets in the city’s Garden District. Wife of the general and mother to eleven children, Anna Hennen Hood, died of Yellow Fever on August 24, 1879. On August 30, both John B. Hood and his oldest daughter, Lydia, likewise succumbed. Their demise cast the ten remaining children into a sea of grief and helplessness. In just a handful of days, their lives were forever changed.

Newspapers across the country seized upon the news of the Hood family tragedy. While today, discussions about Hood primarily center around his military performance these tributes and obituary articles are not only fascinating but fully humanizing too. So often, as someone rattles off the tired “Peter Principle” line or engages in their own Armchair General session of Hood’s decisions at Atlanta or Franklin (look, don’t get me started), his humanity is lost. In this vein, he simply becomes an object in a web of calculated decisions and “what-ifs.” On this anniversary of his death, rather than dissect his generalship or engage in debates about his role in this battle or that campaign, below are a handful of excerpts from the hundreds of articles written upon his demise.

From New Orleans’ Times-Picayune, August 31, 1879:

“It is with the profoundest regret that the picayune chronicles the death of the accomplished gentleman and distinguished soldier, whose name in every chronicle of the gigantic struggle between North and South will always rank among the bravest and most chivalric of Confederate leaders. The sad news is but too true. All that the most experienced and highest medical skill could devise, all that the warmest friendship and tenderest affection could suggest to save him from the grim destroyer was tried, but it was of no avail. The sudden death of his wife, to whom he was devotedly attached, had prostrated him and he himself, we learn, assured those around him that he did not expect to recover. Two of his children were sick at the same time with himself; Lydia, the eldest now dangerously ill, and Ethel, one of the twins.

The ruling passion was strong throughout to death. At various periods during his illness he expressed himself in military terms. Thus on Friday he said to his physician, Dr. Bemiss: ‘Doctor if you cannot overcome the enemy, do not try any experiments.’ Again, later in the day, when a favorable symptom occurred, he said: ‘Doctor, I believe that we have routed the enemy.’

Shortly before death he was delirious, and expired, like Napoleon, giving orders to his columns engaged in the battle flame and smoke.

The scene presented in the residence is indeed a sad one; two of the children sick upstairs, and nine downstairs liable to attack from the malady that has deprived them of a devoted father. Their mother is gone, and none remain of the adults of that happy home circle but the aged and enfeebled grandmother of the orphans.”

After a summary of his military experiences and post-war experiences, the paper concluded:

“He was known to everyone in this city, and by everyone respected and admired. He became a devout member of the Episcopal Church years ago; And it was a touching sight to see the tall, slender form of the maimed soldier moved slowly up, by help of a crutch or cane, to the altar rail, where he knelt with the poorest and the humblest, to partake in the most solemn right of his faith, the communion. His quiet, dignified manner, his amiable expression of countenance, his genial disposition and well-informed mind made him a man to be noticed in any assembly or in any circle. The keen blue eye and the firm lips showed the spirit that dwelt beneath his Placid exterior. The very soul of honor and knighthood lived in that shattered frame. Neither wounds, nor sickness, nor danger, nor poverty, nor the defeat of the cause he fought for so heroically, could shake that dauntless spirit or ruffle the composure of the polished and modest gentleman. His motherless children, whatever betide them in the hereafter, will never have ought to remember him by Dave what did him honor. His peer in the highest qualities of a man was not easy to find. In death, his rare virtues are consecrated in the memory of a host of mourning friends, who will join with us in this sincere tribute to his memory.”[1]

Likewise, an obituary announcement appeared in the Berrien Springs, Michigan paper, The Era:

“Gen. J.B Hood of Confederate memory, died August 30th in New Orleans of yellow fever. He was a reckless fighter, and succeeded Joe Johnston at Atlanta. His last words were, ‘Doctor, we may dislodge the enemy yet.’ After the war he married, and his family until recently consisted of his wife and eleven children. Mrs. Hood died of yellow fever only days before his own death, leaving twins two months old. Gen. Hood was quite poor, having lost his fortune in business ventures. His brother ‘Johnny Rebs’ throughout the South are to take up a subscription for the benefit of his family.”[2]

From his native Kentucky, The True Kentuckian offered this:

“That gallant one-armed and one-legged hero, Gen. John Bell hood, is no more. His death at New Orleans followed that of his wife only five days, she dying on Monday of last week and he the following Saturday morning. His daughter and Lydia aged – years, died Sunday night, and Miss Edith is also at death’s door.

This is truly one of the saddest visitations of that terrible disease, yellow fever. A telegram says: ‘General Hood used a military expression to the last period perceiving slight favorable symptoms, he said: “Doctor Bemiss, we may yet dislodge the enemy.” He leaves eleven children, the eldest 10 years, and the youngest twins, 3 weeks old period his physical condition has been bad for some time, caused, it is alleged, by physical financial strike that financial reverses, and the death of his wife affected him very much. He leaves the manuscript history of the war which he intended to have published this fall.’

Gen. Hood was born in Owingsville, Bath Co., Ky., on June 29, 1831. He was appointed a cadet at a West Point Academy in 1849, and was graduated forty-fourth on the list of the class of 1853. Among his classmates were Gens. Jas. B McPherson, and Phil H. Sheridan. He at once entered upon active service in the Second Dragoons, and in defending the Texas frontier was severely wounded in an engagement with the Lipan and Comanche Indians. July 10^th, 1857. At the outset of the late war he promptly cast his fortunes with the South and soon rose to distinction and won the title of the bravest of the brave. At Gettysburg, Pa., he lost an arm and afterwards at Chickamauga a leg. He fought the disastrous battles at Franklin and Nashville, being called to the command of the Army of Tennessee by a popular cry that demanded action.”

Finally, a tribute was published in the New Orleans Times-Picayune by the Confederate veterans of the Louisiana Division of the Army of Tennessee:

“To his men it mattered not what doubt of success or what information of danger might be suggested; Those men felt that hood would make a grand and stupendously bold effort, and they could afford to follow his lead and stand by this man of marvelous daring; That even if defeat should follow, they would at least have given to the world another example that would excite wonder and approbation and mark the bloody field within double and imperishable fame, serving to teach future generations the limit of human effort and human endurance.

As expressed in his own forcible language, when last with us, five short months since: ‘They charged me with having made Franklin a slaughter-pen, but, as I understand it, war means fight and fight means kill.’

The recollections of his incomparable daring, his eminent skill, his fidelity to duty, his unselfish patriotism, the splendor of his service, the loftiness of his purpose, lead us to realize that in the firmament of our military history a brilliant star has suddenly sunk below the horizon of the present; Its departure arouses to us what its brightness was, and brings reflections as to how greatly it transcended and differed in glory from other stars, and we stand watching for lights of equal magnitude, wondering if we shall ever look upon its peer.

In Fame’s eternal volume of the history of the war there will always be one bright shining page, which neither criticism nor calumny can tarnish or obliterate, on which has been inscribed with his own good sword and his trusty right arm, the autograph of John B hood.

That as a man we have known him in the trials that have followed our unsuccessful struggle, manifesting as a quiet citizen the same lofty character, the same high principles that had actuated him in more conspicuous spaces. Modest and unpretentious, courteous and affable, conciliating the love of all who knew him, achieving victories no less renowned than those of war; a man who, having given his youth and his blood for his country, has ended his days among his people in integrity and in honor— a career for the historian to dwell upon; a noble example for posterity to follow.”[3]

 

[1] “Death of Gen. J.B. Hood.” The Times-Picayune, New Orleans, Louisiana, August 31, 1879, 2.

[2] The Era, Berrien Springs, Michigan, September 10, 1879, 2.

[3] “An Eloquent Tribute to the Memory of the Late Gen. J.B. Hood.” The Times-Picayune, New Orleans, Louisiana, September 10, 1879, 2.