Leonidas Polk Family Papers

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famous men the University of the South rightly holds first claim. But Sewanee's title must not be allowed to be exclusive. These men belong also the the Protestant Episcopal Church; they belong to the Anglican Communion; they belong to the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church of the ages. And at the head of their line we rejoice to recognize that grand triumvirate of Bishops and Fathers in God -- James Hervey Otey of Tennessee, Stephen Elliott of Georgia, and, in their center, Leonidas Polk, Missionary Bishop of Arkansas and the Southwest, first Foreign Missionary Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church, first Bishop of Louisiana, and, in the words of Bishop Quintard, "the projector, originator, and real founder of the University of the South."

The life of Leonidas Polk was impressed from the beginning with a military character. Both his father and his grandfather had been soldiers of the Revolution. Born on April 10, 1806, in Raleigh, North Carolina, he received

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official acts to General Convention: baptisms, 71; confirmations, 199; ordinations: deacons, 1; priests, 3; marriages, 3; churches consecrated, 5. He made his own comment as follows: "The vast extent of the field, the dispersed condition of the population, and the absence of facilities for communication with the different parts of it, have made the labor very great, and the apparent results far less than I could have desired. I have felt that I was engaged in the work of a pioneer, and that the seeds I was sowing, cast in as I trust in faith, would, under the watering of my successors, and the blessing of God, spring up in due time and bring forth fruits unto eternal life."

While at the General Convention in New York City in October, 1841, Bishop Polk was invited by the deputies from Louisiana to accept the bishopric of their diocese. The request was approved by the House of Bishops; on October 16 the House of Deputies confirmed the election, and Leonidas Polk became Bishop of Louisiana, having resigned his missionary jurisdiction. He promptly

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degree of practical wisdom, cautious investigation, exquisite tact, and indefatigable energy, which far surpass all that I could conceive in the bounds of human efficiency."

So, on October 23, 1856, in Philadelphia, the bishops of the southern dioceses met and enthusiastically endorsed the united endeavor; the first meeting to organize a Board of Trustees was held on Lookout Mountain, Chattanooga, July 4, 1857; the lofty and magnificent domain at Sewanee, Tennessee, was secured; and the initial endowment of over $500,000 was raised in a few short months. On October 10, 1860, came the occasion of the final inauguration of the University of the South, and at the height of the ceremony it was properly given to the Bishop of Louisiana to perform the rite of laying the corner-stone in place. He said, "A corner-stone is that which unites the walls of a building, and may symbolize strength and stability, -- the union of the intellectual and spiritual nature of man -- the emblem of Christ -- the sure and tried corner-stone -- the wisdom of God, and the power

From THE POINTER File: Leonidas Polk official publication of the cadets at West Point. June 2, 1961

{illustration of a draped Confederate flag with a bible, a cross, and a flat-topped & flat-brimmed hat of the type associated with ministers arranged atop the draped fabric on the left and a sabre, a Cavalry hat with plume arranged on the right}

BISHOP-GENERAL OF THE CONFEDERACY

history By E. T. LECHNER

the rousing tale of leonidas polk, the minister-in-arms, in the story which took first place in the 1961 association of graduates essay contest.

. . . at the landing, are thirty-thee thousand men, Some fairly seasoned in war, but many green sticks, Grant's Army of the Tennessee. Down the river Don Carlos Buell has twenty-five thousand more In the Army of the Ohio. Opposing these Are Albert Sidney Johnston and Beauregard With something like forty thousand butternut fighters Including a martial bishop. ___

The final phrase of Benet's verse strikes a strange note. A bishop in the battlefield? How come a clergyman to the blood-soaked fields of Shiloh? Who was this figure, called by his men simply "the Bishop?" It was he who, when the massed forces of a divided country met at Shiloh, advanced with sword drawn to lead personally his gray-clad followers in four gallant charges against the Federal blue. It is hard to make "Reverend" rhyme with "General", yet the man spoken of in the verse did that - and more. He was a leader of men in two spheres of endeavor, both position demanding exacting qualities of leadership. Not only did he succeed as a soldier and as a minister, but he excelled as both. A graduate of the United States Military Academy and an Alexandria, Virginia seminary, his dual life included service as Episcopal Bishop of Louisiana and Confederate Lieutenant General. His name was Leonidas Polk.

Polk's father, a country gentleman of North Carolina, had been an officer in the Continental Army and a battle companion of Andrew Jackson. Leonidas determined to follow his father's example and began his Army career as a cadet at the Military Academy. His years at West Point were spent under the direct eye of Superindendent Thayer. Young Polk was quick to experience at the Academy what new cadets have confronted for a centery and a half. With the careful tone of reserve which was to prove so characteristic of his later life he wrote to his father,

June 2, 1961 Page Nineteen

Our officers —our instructors, I mean. in tactics— are well qualified to perform the duties which devolve on them, and instill very rigid principles of discipline in those under them. . .

These same "rigid principles of discipline" were to prove permanently imbedded upon his character after graduation and throughout his varied life. His roommate at the Point was Albert Sidney Johnston. Their paths were to diverge sharply after graduation, only to recross decades later at Shiloh Chapel, where Johnston's path was to end. The man to be largely responsible for this recrossing was their friend and fellow cadet, Jefferson Davis.

During his second class year Polk's cadet life underwent a change which foreshadowed his remarkable career to come: he was converted to Christianity through the efforts of the cadet chaplain. Polk's sincerity and dedication toward this newly chosen path were indicative of the militant determination so vital to all leaders. It took more than ordinary soldier courage for Polk to kneel during the confession in the church service while his friends remained seated; it took strength of conviction for the tall, broad shouldered cadet to stride to the front of the chapel to be publicly baptized; and it took the type of individualism which marks greatness for him to organize the little cadet "praying squad" which he daily led to the vacant prison room of the barracks for devotions. His "praying squad" ultimately grew large enough to require the chapel, and with it grew corresponding conviction in Polk's soul that God meant his life for some field of service other than that of a soldier.

He graduated number eight in the Class of 1827 and despite his distinctive Academy record, despite the resulting delay of his marriage, and against the wishes of his military-minded father, Leonidas resigned his hard-earned commission and entered a seminary. The very qualities instilled in Polk at the Academy demanded that he persevere toward the goal his conscience dictated.

A few years later, Leonidas Polk held the responsibility of Missionary Bishop of the Southwest for the Episcopal Church. His parish included Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama, the largely unsettled republic of Texas, and the Indian Territory; his parishioners included river boatmen, tavernkeepers, homesteaders, and horse-thieves. As a matter of principle he carried no weapons, but on every side his military training at West Point proved fully as valuable to his survival during the week as his seminary training to his sermons on Sunday. He led a seemingly charmed life, once missing passage on an ill-fated riverboat which suffered an explosion enroute, only because he had taken time to visit an old West Point classmate. The gray-eyed clergyman with the straight back of a soldier and the dignity of a troop commander became a legend in the area he served.

In 1841, he became the resident Bishop of Louisiana. Three years later, his cousin, James K. Polk, was elected President of the United States. Years passed and the Civil War found Leonidas immersed in preparations for the establishment of the Episcopal University of the South, an institution which he had long felt was sorely needed in the southern states. The cornerstone of the first building was set, but the sound of cannon at Fort Sumter permanently stunted its growth. The southern representatives came home from Congress, and Leonidas Polk suddenly found himself senior bishop of the dioceses of the Confederate States of America, and on his desk lay an official correspondence from his friend, Jefferson Davis, urgently requesting his services as an officer in the newly formed army. After careful consideration, which in the case of Polk meant prayerful consideration, he agreed to accept a commission until some one better qualified could be found for the position. The same rugged determination which marked his separation from the profession of arms characterized his return to it. His action was highly praised and highly criticized by men of both the North and South, but once he had defined to his own satisfaction in which direction lay his duty, nothing deterred him from it. He was given the rank of Major General with the mission of defense of the Mississippi Valley. One critic is reported to have declared, "What! you, a bishop, throw off the gown for the sword!" To which the quick-witted bishop replied, "No, sir. I buckle the sword over the gown." That sword, never again to be unbuckled, was to cut swaths through many a Union battleline.

His was a remarkable readjustment to the military. The same voice that had rung the gospel message from the pulpit now issued commands from horseback. Soldiers of the army received his orders with the same respect the faithful had accorded his ministerial directives. He seized the initiative in moving his troops into Kentucky to forestall the Federal advance he felt inevitable. At Shiloh he conducted a war with the same calmness and sense of confidence with which he had formerly conducted worship services. What he lacked as a military strategist, he amply compensated for as an on-the-scene symbol of courage and inspiration for his men and as a surprisingly capable tactician. His bearing seemed to invite confidence in others. Major Butler, a godson of Andrew Jackson. lay dying of his wounds after the battle of Belmont at the opening of the war. He requested to see General Polk and was heard to say as the General left his room. "There goes one of the noblest men God ever made." The scene was touchingly similar to one that had taken place in slave quarters during a Louisiana cholera epidemic, when a stricken slave's final wish was to lay his head on Bishop Polk's breast as he died.

Polk was noted for being stubborn and self-willed in battle, but perhaps these qualities supplemented rather than detracted from his leadership ability. A man who rides to battle at the head of his columns needs every ounce of audacity and self-confidence that his spirit can muster. At dusk, during the battle of Perryville, Kentucky, General Polk noticed a line of men which he took to be Confederates firing on the flank of his own men. Since none of his aides were near, Polk galloped to the firing line and demanded that the colonel in charge cease firing immediately. It was only when the Indiana colonel gave his name and division that the General realized that he had ridden into Union lines and was speaking with an officer of the Federal Army. A man with less presence of mind would have attempted immediate escape, but Polk was far too shrewd for any action so foolhardy, and perhaps instantly aware of his opportunity to turn his mistake to advantage. One can imagine that his quick mind weighed the possibilities of the situation: the light was dim, his uniform blouse was dark, and he knew a soldier's respect for superior authority. Riding up to the colonel he sharply repeated his demand for an immediate cease fire and then slowly rode his horse down the Union line ordering the men to stop firing. In his own words, "I experienced a disagreeable sensation like screwing up my back, and calculating how many bullets would lie between my shoulders every moment." But not a single soldier fired. He had saved his own life by a bluff few men would be bold enough to dare. Calmly riding back to his own lines he announced matter-of-factly to a nearby Confederate commander, "Colonel, I have reconnoitered those fellows pretty closely, and there is no mistake as to who they are. You may get up and go at them."

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