The Cemetery at St. John’s, Where Generals Cleburne, Strahl and Granbury Were Buried.
One of the most beautiful and touching scenes is quoted further from the same book, and related by the Bishop’s wife, on page 176.
After describing the visitation of cholera in the winter of 1849-50, and the Bishop’s almost fatal illness from it, together with almost all his family and the death of nearly a hundred of the servants of himself and friends, Mrs. Polk relates this touching incident:
“As soon as the Bishop was able—indeed, at the risk of a relapse—he was at the bedside of the sick and the dying. The last case of cholera occurred on the 7th of June, when a very fine servant, named Wright, by trade a blacksmith, was attacked. His master had been reading and praying with him. Wright raised his head and said: ‘Master, lift me up.’ ‘I am afraid to, Wright,’ the Bishop said—‘the doctors say it might be fatal.’ ‘I am dying now, master; lift me up.’ The Bishop raised him, when Wright suddenly threw his arms around his master’s neck and exclaimed: ‘Now, master, I can die in peace; I do love you so I have often wanted to hug you, and now let me die resting here on your heart and you praying for me!’ His wish was complied with and soon he was at rest.”
St. John’s Church received its most sacred and consecrated fame during the war. When Hood’s army invaded Tennessee after the fight around Atlanta, in November, 1864, the route of the army lay along this pike in the march to Nashville. The army had been marching over the poor lands of the barrens, the hills of Georgia and the barrens of the Highland Run, and when it entered Middle Tennessee, in the garden spot of which sat this little church, Gen. Patrick R. Cleburne, who had won great fame as a dashing fighter, raised his hat to the restful beauty and quietness of St. John’s and remarked: “If I am killed in the coming battle, I would like to be buried yonder.” In a few days occurred the bloody battle of Franklin, in which not only Cleburne, but Generals Gist, Strahl, Granbury and Adams—five of the greatest field officers of Hood’s army, were killed, and all except Generals Adams and Gist, were buried in the beautiful cemetery at St. John’s. Years afterward, one by one, their remains were exhumed and carried, with fitting honors, to their former homes, where monuments had been erected to their memories. General Adams was killed on the breastworks, his horse falling half over, and he himself over in the enemy’s lines supported and soothed by one of the officers who mourned the mortal wound, saying that he was too brave a man to die. Cleburne fell leading his men up to the breastworks.
The communion silver for St. John’s was given by Mrs. Sarah H. Polk, the widow of the old Revolutionary soldier, and the mother of Gen. Leonidas Polk. It was beautiful and massive. The war left St. John’s desolate, the Federal army burned the beautiful and imposing mansion of the fighting bishop, the communicants were scattered and for nearly half a century the picturesque chapel has, with occasional services in it, alone stood silent sentinel over its great dead a monument of an heroic age.
The account of how the communion silver was saved during the war is a story told by one of the ladies of the Polk family, and so generally interesting that it is related here, as it illustrates so perfectly the peculiar superstitious nature of the negro:
One of the most faithful negroes belonging to Col. Geo. W. Polk was a negro named Wiley, who had been in the family as a trusty and faithful servant for so many years that Colonel Polk thought he could trust his life in Wiley’s hands. Another negro was old John, a very old negro, who was gardener, and too old to do much more than keep up the flower garden and the walks of the estate. Word was brought to Colonel Polk that some Federals stationed in Columbia, six miles away, intended to make a midnight raid on St. John’s and secure the silver service at the church. Perhaps it was Wiley himself who brought the information, and that the raid, or rather the theft, would occur that night. It did not take Colonel Polk long to act. Soon after dark, taking Wiley and a small express, he went to the old church and secured the silver. Silently he and the negro went out in the dark carrying the silver in a large cedar box and taking off the top of one of the old square box-tombs, he hid it there and placed the top slab back in its place.