Civil War Articles by Julian WilliamsWorld of the South Changing Rapidly For Ocmulgee Men
This article was compiled by Julian Williams.
When the War started in 1861, men like Julius Warren Boyd, of old Feronia, south of the Ocmulgee River, had a lot to look forward to. He had his heart set on a large piece of the the vast and productive river land and came to realize his dream and own his very own plantation, "Deerland." Opportunities for buying real estate seemed to abound on both sides of the river. In 1854, the same year that Julius Warren Boyd's plantation changed from being in Telfair County to being in the new Coffee County, this ad appeared in the Milledgeville State Recorder for another valuable piece of real estate located near the site of old Fort Clark, forerunner and still the site of Blockhouse Baptist Church, near Jacksonville:
Tuesday, June 20, 1854
Georgia, Telfair County: Will be sold before the Court House door in said county on the first Tuesday in August, next, between the legal hours of sale, all the property belonging to the estate of Gov. John Clark, late of said county, deceased. Sold for the benefit of the heirs and creditors of said estate. (Signed) W.W. Paine, Agent.
Yes, business of all kinds was being conducted at the old county courthouse in Jacksonville, Georgia. From the estate of a famous resident, Governor John Clark, to the matter of settling lesser affairs (such as the one below, also in 1854), the river valley was full of activity and promise and legal business:
Georgia, Telfair County: Sheriff Sales -- On the first Tuesday in June next, will be sold at the courthouse in the town of Jacksonville, Telfair County, within the usual hours of sale, the following property to wit:
One cream colored mare --- levied on as the property of Thomas Fletcher, to satisfy executions or fi fas in favor of Matthew Grace. (Signed) James M. Jones, Sheriff.
Also, about the same time in 1854, John McDearmid, Ordinary of Telfair County, received letters of dismission from Alexander T. Dopson regarding the estate of Mahala Rushing, late of said county, deceased.
But this air of promise and prosperity was to be short-lived. It is now 1864, and the war keeps mowing down the men from between the rivers and those below the Ocmulgee.
At first, wild-eyed young men, some who had never been 10 miles from home, did all they could, including lying about their age, to get into the service of the Confederacy. This sense of adventure, coupled with a fear of Yankee invasion, and a general hatred of an oppressive central government, fired these eager youth to "sign up" immediately. Why, there was nothing else to do -- what would cousin John and pretty Martha Louise and all the men around the pot-bellied stove at the general store think "if I don't go" ? So go I will.
But in 1864, the flickering flame of the Confederacy is now down to a low glow. The Milledgeville State Recorder (1863 and 1864) continues to publish legals for the dead Telfair soldiers whose hearts are at home but whose bodies have been buried (hopefully) at goodness knows where --
Susannah Parker's legal notice is in the paper for her beloved now gone, William B. Parker of the Georgia 49th. The estate of D.C. Anderson of the Georgia 20th, who died at Richmond, is beckoning debtors and creditors to come forward now or never. The State Recorder publishes administrator John Ryalls' ad for Larkin M. Ball of the 20th, who expired in Richmond. Administrators William H. Harrell and Millian J. Burnam do the same for Thomas Burnam of the 49th who fatally fell at Malvern Hill. Abb L. Hatton puts one in the same paper for the late Lt. William Hatton who succumbed to the War's dreaded pneumonia. The Ocmulgee soldiers are going off and not coming back. Their deaths are like bad dreams. The announcements are unwanted and unwelcome but necessary for the living to make some disposition of this final reality. It is the news which comes to one and all, but for those young men it came too quickly. They were in the prime of life.
And dying was not the only problem for the Confederacy. If fact, at one point before the War, a popular vote of 42,744 to 41,717 actually opposed immediate secession. Telfair, with many other counties, did not care to leave the Union. And the turnout was light, considering the gravity of such a decision, because many of the poorer folks did not vote because they had no money to pay the poll tax. In any event, when the matter reached the convention, it was a horse of another hue. Only 37 percent of Georgia's voters owned slaves but 86 percent of the convention delegates were slaveholders. The expected became a reality: With their numbers and influence the powerful planters engineered a final vote for secession of 208 to 89. The die was cast. And, ironically, "die" was to become a standard of fear and waste.
And, as the long struggle wore on, the common folk became more and more disenchanted with the "cause." The phrase, "a rich man's war and a poor man's fight," was being heard more frequently and much more vehemently as time went on.
Planters, usually plantation owners with 20 or more slaves, seemed to be part of the problem. The Confederacy wanted them to quit growing so much cotton in favor of crops that would feed the Southern armies. Now that was a noble thing but many planters were after money, not nobility. Some of the bad ones actually bragged that a longer war would mean more money for them. And it would go on because these powerful men controlled the Confederacy.
To rub salt in the wound, the rich often paid an exemption fee or "commutation fee" of $500 to dodge military service altogether. One source said that 86,724 bought their way out of service. And this didn't count the numbers who hired "substitutes." It was not a pretty picture by any description.
Georgia newspaper ads such as the following seemed to incense an already angry plain folk citizenry:
"WIFE WANTED - by a young man of good habits, plenty of money, good looking and legally exempt from Confederate Service." The breach was quickly widening between the haves and have nots, the "planters" and the "plain folks."
And, where the rich could buy their way out, the poor were forced, by the Confederacy's laws of "conscription," to serve "whether or no ." Men, leaving to go the aid of starving families, were dragged back and executed. The picture was not getting any prettier.
So, men like the soldier described in Ward's History of Coffee County, started "wandering off" and not coming back. Some desertion terms were: "running the guard," "flanking the sentinel," and "taking a cornfield furlough." It either got them home or got them killed. But these men figured they had no choice. And the South had no monopoly on this activity. Union soldiers hit the road toward home, too - without permission.
So, in 1864 the scene was not that of 1861 -- even President Jefferson Davis was saying, by September of 1864, that two-thirds of the Southern army was absent -- most without leave. But, many brave men, over 61,000, were with Lee at Spotsylvania, and thousands were on other fields of blood. Things were tough, at home, and on the battlefield.
Credits:
"Georgia 49th Regiment" by John Griffin;
"Georgia 20th Regiment" by Willie Garner;
"Don't Drink The Water" by John and Anita Rigdon;
"Rich Man's War" by David Williams;
"Ward's History of Coffee County";
"Telfair Newspaper Clippings" by Tad Evans.
