War:
A Poem, with Copious Notes,
Founded on the Revolution of 1861-62,
(up to the Battles before Richmond, Inclusive)
Electronic Edition.
Hewitt, John Hill, 1801-1890
Funding from the Institute of Museum and Library
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First edition, 1999
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Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
1999.
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Source Description:
(title page) War: A poem, with copious notes, founded on the Revolution
of 1861-62,
(up to the battles before Richmond, inclusive)
John H. Hewitt
85 p.
Richmond, VA.
West & Johnston
1862
Call number 3140 Conf. (Rare Book Collection, University of North Carolina at
Chapel Hill)
The electronic edition is a part of the UNC-CH
digitization project, Documenting the
American South.
All footnotes are
inserted at the point of reference.
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Spell-check and
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Languages Used:
- English
- LC Subject Headings:
- Virginia -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Poetry.
- Confederate States of America -- Poetry.
- Southern States -- Poetry.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Poetry.
Revision History:
- 2000-02-22,
Celine Noel and Wanda Gunther
revised TEIHeader and created catalog record for the electronic edition.
-
1999-,
Natalia Smith, project manager,
finished TEI-conformant encoding and final proofing.
-
1999-12-20,
Elizabeth S. Wright
finished TEI/SGML encoding
- 1999-12-01,
Jason Befort
finished scanning (OCR) and proofing.
WAR:
A POEM, WITH COPIOUS NOTES,
FOUNDED ON THE REVOLUTION OF 1861-62,
(UP TO THE BATTLES BEFORE RICHMOND, INCLUSIVE,)
BY
JOHN H. HEWITT.
--In a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughter;
Your fathers taken by their silver beards,
And their most reverend heads clash'd to the wall;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes;
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
Do break the clouds.--Shakspeare--Henry
V.
Mark where his carnage and his conquest cease;
He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace!
Byron's Bride of Abydos.
RICHMOND, VA.:
PUBLISHED BY WEST & JOHNSTON,
NO. 145 MAIN STREET.
1862.
Page verso
R. W. GIBBES, PRINTER,
COLUMBIA, S. C.
Page 3
DEDICATION.
To JAMES BARRON HOPE, ESQ.
DEAR FRIEND: Please excuse the liberty I take in dedicating to you the following hastily written poem, which I dare not dignify with the title of epic. The remembrance of past hours, of pleasant associations, the many kindly favors which I acknowledge at your hands; and more particularly my admiration for your shining merits as a scholar, a patriot and a gentleman, have induced me to inscribe these pages to you.
You will find, on perusal, much to condemn as bordering on the doggerel--but you must be aware that when a poet is bound down to facts, he is compelled to throw the ideal aside; at least, I have found it so in attempting to chronicle the events of the war in rhyme.
Yours ever,
THE AUTHOR.
Page 5
INTRODUCTION.
The election of a sectional President, and one, too, an acknowledged enemy to the institutions of the South, in 1861, fired that portion of the happiest and most glorious nation in the world with indignation. The conservative element of both sections looked on aghast--they had been defeated in their endeavors to ward off the appending storm, and a majority of the electoral vote proclaimed Abraham Lincoln, the Abolitionist candidate, President elect of the United States of America.
South Carolina was the first State to deny the authority of a purely sectional chief executive; she raised the banner of "rebellion," and was followed by the rest of the cotton States, Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas and Florida; the border States, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri and Arkansas remaining in statu quo.
During the interim between the election and inauguration of Lincoln, the seven cotton States prepared to resist the threatened coercion of the United States. They armed themselves and seized the forts; arsenals, armories, ships, war materials, &c., of the Federal Government, and secured themselves against invasion. Troops were mustered into service and instructed in camp duty, and the youth of the city and the rural district rushed to the standard of the Southern Confederacy.
Major R. Anderson, the commandant of the forts in Charleston harbor, was summoned to surrender the property under his charge. He at the time occupied Fort Moultrie. Assuming acquiescence to the demand, he put the "rebels" off their guard, and suddenly changed his quarters to Fort Sumter, a new and strong work in the centre of the harbor. This act of duplicity greatly exasperated the people, and a determined siege was commenced. Thousands of troops were called to Charleston; strong batteries were constructed on every available point around the stronghold of the Federalists, and all intercourse with the main land or sea cut off. This fort remained in a beleaguered state until the 13th of April.
In the meanwhile the Southerners had taken possession of many of the military works on the coast of Florida. Fort Pickens resisted, and was besieged in a like manner as Fort Sumter. It was reinforced by
Page 6
the Federal Government on the 11th of April, and also protected by a large naval force.
On the 4th of March Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated President of the United States. His address on that occasion, defining his position, was considered, even by the moderate men, as equivalent to a declaration of war against the South. He denied the right of States to govern themselves; urged that the United States was the Government, and that independent sovereignty was a mere myth. These doctrines were, of course, scouted by the South, and the war fever became more intense.
The border States, in the meanwhile, endeavored to allay the rising Storm. Virginia had called a State Convention; plans were proposed by the leading men of the border States; some of the conservative men even of the seceded States threw themselves into the breach, and suggested conciliatory plans. Commissioners were sent from Richmond to Washington to propose plans of settlement--a Peace Congress assembled at the latter place, and wise and grey-headed men implored the Executive and his advisers to act with moderation and listen to the just and honorable claims of an oppressed people. It was all in vain; fanaticism ruled the councils of the dominant party, and the institutions of the South must be crushed out, it mattered not what the cost might be.
The Confederate Government sent to Washington Commissioners to negotiate with the United States Government, and to settle, if possible, the points at issue. These Commissioners were detained day after day, and ultimately received their dismissal without accomplishing anything. By this delay the Cabinet gained time--their plans, though hurried, were carried out, and war, with all its accompanying horrors, was determined upon. The Commissioners were induced to believe that Forts Sumter and Pickens would be surrendered to their rightful owners without resort to powder and ball, but the policy acted upon by the Federal Cabinet was based upon deceit and villainy, if men are to believe the exposures which were subsequently given to the world. One of these exposures was the inhuman determination of the Federal Cabinet to sacrifice Anderson and his men, in order that the North might be fully aroused to the necessity of pushing the unnatural war to a bloody extreme.
The Commissioners returned; and on the 12th of April the South Carolina batteries under command of Gen. Beauregard opened on Fort Sumter, and a bloody and protracted war was inaugurated.
Page 7
CANTO I.
A sullen murmur, like the moan of waves
That circle round old Ocean's hidden caves,
Comes on the feverish air; now louder still
The sound swells out o'er valley and o'er hill,
Until it falls, like thunder on the ear--
Stirs the proud soul and strikes the churl with fear.
On, in his barb'd and fiery-steeded car,
With Death and Rapine, rushes angry War,
Flaunting his blood-red banner in the wind,
And laughing at the crush'd hearts left behind.
The vulture soars above his reeking track,
And lightning shafts are flashing at his back;
While from his car-wheels issue thunder tones
That blend with shrieks and dying warrior's groans.
He calls on man to slay his fellow man,
And points to glory as his rich reward;
Laurels that flourish in the bloody van,
Reap'd by the strong arm and the weeping sword.
Then up, ye sleepers!--'t is the loud decree,
Repel the foe--or live in ignomy:
Famine and fire--the bayonet--the ball
Must be withstood; obey your country's call.
Ye may not see old age--but then, ye may
From Fame's high temple tear the crown away,
Page 8
And live in story or in graceful song,
Your grave the Mecca of th' admiring throng.
Aye--this is glory for the chief, but none
Trace honors on the soldier's grey headstone.
Arm, then, for right--for home--for those you love,
The good's in doing what your hearts approve;
Leave fame to those whose ears invite the sound,
Your duty is to yield no space of ground:
For, what is war but strife for mastery?
The gates of mercy close--while passions riot;
Hosts clash with hosts, like billows of the sea,
And where there's desolation there is quiet.
War is the god of some men; wreaths and crowns
Are pluck'd from cannons' mouths and burning towns;
Their deity, tho' clothed in robes of blood,
And scattering terror over land and flood,
Looks smiling in their eyes, and, like the sun
Warms into life the flower it shines upon.
Perchance it's so--but brothers, when they meet,
Should have a hand and not a sword to greet;
And let our anger guide us as it will,
A brother has a brother's feelings still.
'Mid orange groves, in mountain passes wild,
O'er pregnant fields where bounteous Nature smiled,
In busy marts, the battle cry rings loud
From godlike lips amid the surging crowd.
The Southron answers to the stirring call,
The vale--the plain--the hill--the dazzling hall,
Send forth their bands of youthful chivalry,
Strong in the right, determined to be free.
Page 9
Old rifles, sabres--rusted o'er by time,
Borne when our patriot sires were in their prime,
Once more come forth and shine in bright array,
Ready to do--when brave men lead the way.
There sat all mute a Southern maid--her eyes
Were fill'd with tears--the heart's sweet memories
Were spoken in her sighs--joys past and gone--
A weeping flower--a lute without a tone.
Beside her stood a youth--his lofty brow
Bent downward, while his flashing eyes betray'd
The burning love he scarcely dared avow,
But well he knew the call must be obey'd.
He grasp'd his father's musket in his hand,
His mother's Bible rested on his heart--
"I go," he said, "to shield my native land,
But ere I go I'd say how dear thou art.
See on the plain my young companions throng,
Their banner in the breeze--their swelling song
Invites to conflict. Would'st thou have me stay
And not be up at Freedom's dawning day?
Virginia calls--the hireling hosts have press'd
Their iron heels upon a mother's breast;
Her golden fields are trodden--desolate,
Her people feel a tyrant's deadly hate!
Maid of the South!--dearer to me than life,
Would'st thou consent to be a craven's wife?"
The maid arose--shook back her raven hair,
Her eyes shone bright, but not a tear was there;
Firmly she grasp'd his hand, and whispered "No--
This is my off'ring to my country--go!"
Page 10
What pen can tell a mother's love--what song
Can speak the fondness, durable and strong,
A mother wraps around her child--her joy,
The hope of coming years, her darling boy?
She gives him to the cause, the widow's gift,
And bids him high his country's standard lift,
Strike for his home--his rights; and, should he fall
An angel host will bear his funeral pall:
The young wife fills the homespun haversack,
Buckles the knapsack on her husband's back,
Kisses his sun-bronz'd cheek and weeps awhile,
Then, scorning tears, she summons up the smile
Gives him her babe and bids him kiss once more
The little treasure ere he goes to war.
Proudly she scans him and his rifle too,
For well she knows they both are staunch and true,
And bids him go and join the doubtful fight,
The strife of Southern right and Northern might.
They mount their restless steeds, the Ranger band,
With carbine slung and shining knife in hand;
Over the prairie, thro' the shadowy glen,
Up hilly slopes, on speed those fearless men.
The rocks send back their wild and piercing cry,
While the proud eagle leaves his roost on high,
And, half afright, joins in the elfin song,
Mocking the war-cry as he soars along.
Gathering, still gathering--from river swamp,
From jungle wild, from glen and lofty crag,
Until they mass in one far-stretching camp,
And crowd around the Southern rainbow flag.
Page 11
*
The homely air of "Dixie" of extremely doubtful origin, though
pretty generally believed to have sprung from a noble stock of Southern
stevedore melodies, became spontaneously the national tune. The
words are uncouth and unmeaning; some patriotic verses have however
been wedded to the mongrel melody and have proved stirring. The
children in all sections of the Confederacy were taught to sing it, while
at the North to do so was treason. **
On the night of the 12th of April the Confederate batteries, under
Gen. Beauregard, opened on Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor. The
fire was returned by Major Anderson, then in command, and the bombardment
continued throughout that night and the next day and night,
36 hours. The flagstaff was shot away by our guns; and soon it was
announced that "Fort Sumter was on fire." A flag of truce was displayed,
and Col. Wigfall, who was appointed Aid to Gen. Beauregard,
went with a white flag to offer assistance to extinguish the flames.
He approached the burning fortress from Morris' Island, and while
the fire was raging on all sides, effected a landing. He demanded
that the Union flag must be hauled down or the firing would not cease.
This, was done, and Sumter surrendered to South Carolina--the firing
then ceased. Anderson and his men sustained themselves bravely, and
they were allowed to honor the old flag with a salute as it came to the
ground; this salute caused the death of four soldiers by the bursting
of a gun--the only blood that was spilt during, the affair. The venerable
Edmund Ruffin, of Virginia, discharged the first gun from the iron
battery at Cumming's Point. He subsequently shot all the guns and
mortars used during the action.
Brothers are there, and hoary-headed sires,
And beardless youths, and pretty vivandieres;
One pulse, one glow the common soul inspires,
In Freedom's cause the high and low are peers.
The young and beautiful with patience ply
The needle for the soldier's canopy;
While gray-hair'd matrons knit with trembling hand,
To clothe the heroes of their Southern land;
Aye--lisping babes are taught the wild refrain
That brings the faint heart back to life again.
*
Hark! from old Moultrie's cannon'd embrasures**
Belch streams of flame, the angry war-dog roars,
Page 12
And murderous shells sweep, humming, thro' the air,
Bursting in fragments--scattering everywhere.
On Sumter, lo!--the starry banner flies,
The proud Palmetto streams o'er Moultrie's walls;
Both give defiance to their enemies,
And tell of triumph--when the other falls.
Peal upon peal, the red shot flying fast,
Like burning meteors rushing thro' the sky;
The dun smoke rolls--the heavens are overcast,
And sea waves roar in uncouth harmony.
Sumter awakes, and, thundering, answers back,
The iron hail speeds on its airy track;
Louder the roar--old ocean's billows groan,
While sea-birds shriek in wild and mournful tone.
All day, all night the stubborn fight goes on,
Another sun lights up another morn,
And still the cannon chant their thundering song,
The howling shot speed fearfully along.
The Union flag has fallen in its pride!
The sign for which so many braves have died.
Sumter's on fire!--the flames dart up the sky,
Volumes of smoke rise in dark majesty--
Her guns are hush'd, the white flag now they raise,
Our batteries no more send forth their blaze.
Hail, Beauregard! whose peerless genius plann'd
The first great vict'ry of the Southern land.
Sumter has fall'n, and Carolina's sons
Have fell'd her flag and hush'd her monster guns.
Swift thro' the land the thrilling tidings sped,
The blow was struck--the first blood had been shed;
Page 13
* Alluding to John Brown who was
convicted and hung prior to the
war, for treason against the State of Virginia. His daring raid upon
the unprepared citizens of a member of the United States, and his vile
endeavor to create a servile insurrection, won him the title of martyr
from his sympathizing abolition friends.
The Union totter'd--loud the call to arms,
The drum was beat--the trumpet's wild alarms
Summon'd the hirelings of the lordly North
To seize their arms and push their standard forth.
Thro' every loyal State--thro' every town
Where lived the memory of the traitor Brown,*
The call was made for fearless men and stout,
To coerce States and "crush rebellion out."
The orator arose with pliant tongue,
He touched the feelings of the motley throng;
Spoke of the Union, Constitution, laws,
Of Southern "rebels" and their hellish cause,
The God-forsaken, starving mob--whose hope
Was fratricide, whose end would be--a rope!
The "stars and stripes," the noble sign of old,
Must be sustain'd in every stitch and fold;
From Maine to Texas, waving proud--sublime,
From that day forth until the end of Time.
And then, oh! strange consistency! he told
Of dark-eyed maidens, hoards of yellow gold,
Rich farms and slaves, by Nature's birthright free,
All should be theirs who proved their loyalty.
"Booty and Beauty," was the Vandal cry,
The burning brand, the knife of crimson dye;
A servile uprise in a peaceful home,
Where discontent was never known to come.
Page 14
The pulpit, where God's love should be the theme,
Was made the forge of mad fanatic's scheme;
Instead of prayers for sins to be forgiven,
Or supplicating peace--majestic Heaven
Was call'd upon to launch its holy ire,
To slay the rebel with consuming fire;
The cities, towns and hamlets, wherein dwelt
The traitor lips that utter'd what they felt,
The traitor hearts that beat for human right,
The traitor arm that dared to show its might.
Misguided thousands put their armor on,
With martial drum and banner in the wind,
Gather'd around the powers at Washington,
With vision'd spoils before and shame behind.
The vet'ran Scott, the man of many wars,
Who bore his honors thickly as his scars,
Shaped this vast host and made them fighters bold,
Fit to slay rebels--or to steal their gold!
* The first blood of the revolution was shed
in Baltimore on the 19th
April. The 7th Regiment of Massachusetts, attempting to pass through
the city on its way to Washington to answer the requisition of President
Lincoln, was assaulted with stones and other missiles by a mob.
The soldiers resorted to the use of their fire-arms, and a general fight
took place, in which several were killed and wounded on both sides.
Gov. Hicks issued a decree calling on all good citizens to preserve the
peace, and promising that no more volunteer troops from the North
should be allowed to pass over the soil of Maryland at their peril.
How he kept his promise, time showed--it was violated in every sense, and so exasperated the citizens
that in their rage they destroyed four
bridges on the Philadelphia and Baltimore Railroad in order to prevent
the passage of Northern troops. Fort McHenry was besieged by
Marylanders. Gen. Scott appointed Gen. Patterson commander of the
District of Columbia military, while Baltimore voted $500,000 for the
defence of the city. At length the citizens seized upon all the arms
within their reach, firmly determined to keep the Federal troops at bay.
The military was completely organized and drilled, being under the
command of Gen. Trimble. At this point the treachery of Governor
Hicks became apparent. He issued a proclamation recommending that
the State occupy a neutral position; and this, too, in the face of the
fact that Federal forces occupied Annapolis, the capital of the State,
and were strongly posted at the Junction of the Washington and
Annapolis Railroads. He knew the serpent was slowly, but surely
twining itself around his native State, so that no power, but determined
patriotism, could release her from its poisonous coils. In vain the
stout-hearted sons of chivalry grasped their weapons of death--their
enemies were allowed to crawl in among them stealthily, until, Maryland
was doomed to worse than slavery.
Proud Baltimore! thou city of the fair!
Whose monuments arise in beauty rare,
Thine was the task to check the onward flood*
Of vaunting troops, thirsting for Southern blood.
Page 15
"Back!" was thy cry, "back to your Northern homes,
Lo! from the South the cry of warning comes;
We'll greet ye with the bayonet and ball,
A grave upon the spot where you may fall."
From dwelling-house, from shop, from social board,
The people rush'd to meet th' invading horde;
And many a heart will mourn that fearful day,
And many a tongue recount the bloody fray.
Now turn we to a scene terrifically grand,
A work inglorious, wrought by flaming brand.
'T was midnight, and the quiet stars look'd down
Upon the wavy deep--the field--the town;
Nature was hush'd--the city seem'd to sleep,
While silence brooded o'er the sparkling deep.
Hark! there's a sudden boom--the night air quakes,
The sleeper, wondering on his couch, awakes.
Page 16
*On the 19th of April the powder
magazine at Norfolk was seized by
order of Gen. Talliaferro. It contained 3,200 barrels of gunpowder,
a large quantity of loaded shells, and immense numbers of shrapnel,
shot and percussion caps. On the 20th a wanton destruction of Government
property was perpetrated by the hirelings of Lincoln. The
Navy Yard at Gosport had been watched by Virginia troops; this
guard of honor did not exactly suit Com. Macauley's ideas of propriety,
so he immortalized his name by an act of vandalism scarcely equaled
in the records of history. Quietly the frigates Germantown and Merrimac
were scuttled--the heavy shears on the wharf at which the
former was laying were cut away and allowed to fall mid-ships across
her decks, carrying away the main topmasts and yards. All the side
and small arms were thrown overboard with other property. About
midnight, after two or three slight explosions, the light of a serious
conflagration was observed at the Yard. This continued to increase,
and before daylight the demon-work of destruction was extended to the
immense ship-houses, formerly containing the entire frame of the New
York 74, and also the low ranges of two story offices and stores on each
side of the main gate of the yard. The Southwest wind blew the flames
directly towards the line of vessels moored on the edge of the channel,
and nearly all these, too, were speedily enveloped in flames. The
huge line-of-battle ship Pennsylvania also became a prey to the devouring
element, and while burning, her heavy guns belched out and threw
their shot upon the yard, thus completing the destruction. The
Cumberland and Pawnee (the latter kept under steam) escaped. The vessels
destroyed were the Pennsylvania, Merrimac, Raritan, Columbia,
Dolphin, Germantown and Plymouth.
A streak of flame from Gosport flashes high,*
And darts its serpent-tongue along the sky:
The yard's on fire! the Pennsylvania burns,
Her heated guns spit forth their flame by turns;
While crackling ribs of mighty ships consume,
Five gallant frigates seek a watery tomb.
Roaring like angry dragons, spread the flames,
Devouring buildings, docks and vessel-frames,
'Till Desolation laughs--then all is o'er,
While Sorrow sighs and mutters--this is war!
But what cares man when passion has its sway?
Millions of wealth are madly thrown away;
Page 17
The toil of years is nought, when policy
Demands the act--no matter what it be.
Philanthropy--the word's not known in war,
It shrinks with Mercy into silent groves;
While headlong Devastation mounts his car,
Drives o'er the land and crushes what man love
In time to come, when Peace again shall smile,
The lisping child may ask whose sturdy arm
First fell'd a foeman on Virginia's soil
And died a martyr in the opening storm?
'Twas Jackson--he who shot young Ellsworth down,
And then was slain, all covered with renown;
A valiant man, was he--a patriot bold,
No suppliant knee he bent, no pow'r of gold
Could buy him o'er, no threats could make him quail,
When he resolved he did not dream of fail!
When Alexandria's streets rang with the yells
Of armed foes--as if a thousand hells
Had oped their gates and let their devils run,
The Southern flag stream'd brightly in the sun
Above his house. He'd sworn that he should pay
The forfeit of his life who tore't away.
The daring Ellsworth, with his Zouave band,
Climb'd to the roof and with unflinching hand,
Tore down the "rebel" ensign, trampled on
The glorious bars and claim'd the trophy won.
Flush'd with his vict'ry--burden'd with his prize,
He stood before the madden'd patriot's eyes;
Quicker than thought a bullet made its path,
And Ellsworth fell beneath the hero's wrath.
Page 18
A moment--and a score of bullets flew,
Felling the patriot, bayonets pierced him through.
His gallant soul departed with a sigh,
Scorn on his lips, defiance in his eye.
Thus fell brave Jackson; many as brave a man
Has since that day fall'n in the battle's van;
Many a youth, whose thirsting spirit drank
At Glory's fount in conflict's foremost rank.
Thousands still live whose dying shout will be
"Our homes all ruins--or our country free!"
At classic Yorktown--now a barren plain,
A canvass city rose, and breastworks bold;
And oft the bugle's soft and silvery strain
Woke the young echo in its rocky hold.
The stream stole past and dallied with the moon,
While music crept along its stilly breast;
The soldier shelter'd from the heat of noon,
Lounged on the grass and courted gentle rest.
The camp fire blazed, the ample kettle swung
On two cross poles, all dark and sooty hung,
While jovially the cook sang out his lay,
The song of Dixie Land, so far away.
The inner picket paced his trodden post
With arms at ease and in deep rev'ry lost;
His visor down upon his sun-burnt brow,
His bay'net glitt'ring in the sun's bright glow.
Far off the outer guard his vigil kept
With ear awake each sound to intercept;
With eye that watch'd the motion of each limb
Of undergrowth in the far distance dim.
Page 19
'Neath an old elm, whose giant arms spread o'er
A pleasant lawn of long and wavy grass,
Loung'd officers, attached to various corps,
Some puffing smoke, some passing round the glass.
The tale--the toast--the song of Vive l'amour,
The repartee--the laugh--the jocund roar,
Told of glad hearts, tho' danger lurk'd hard by,
Hearts that would bound at battle's stirring cry.
"A song! a song! to while the hour away,
And nerve our sinews for another fray."
SONG OF THE MOUNTED RANGERS.
The ball's in the tube and the carbine is slung,
The voice of our bugle has merrily rung;
And, champing the bit, each steed paws the ground
As he hears the last note of that shrill bugle sound.
To saddle! to saddle! Then--up, boys, away!
Ere the last star fades out in the dawn of the day.
Now, hear ye that crack? lo the pickets are near,
The crags give the echo to bugle and cheer;
But little we heed, while yet we've a shot,
And a knife to strike home when the struggle is hot.
Spur onward! spur onward! then--charge, boys, away!
We are in for a brush at the dawn of the day.
We tramp o'er the plain, we speed thro' the glen,
Our steeds are the fleetest and stalwart our men;
Page 20
The wheat-stack we fire and shoot by the flame
The Hessians who tarnish humanity's name.
Upon them! upon them! then--charge, boys, away!
Some blood will be spilt ere the high noon of day.
Bethink ye--our daughters, our sisters, our wives,
In the grasp of the foeman beneath their red knives;
Bethink ye--and on, while the life blood is warm,
And stern vengeance nerves the true Southerner's arm.
No quarters! no quarters! then--on, boys, away!
There will be a death howl ere the closing of day.
Up rose a son of groaning Maryland,
His canteen fill'd with native "contraband;"
Curling his moustache--throwing back his hair,
He sung his wild refrain with martial air.
SONG OF THE MARYLAND LINE.
We're the boys so gay and happy,
Wheresoe'er we chance to be,
If at home or on camp duty,
It is the same--we're always free!
So let the guns roar as they will,
We'll be gay and happy still;
Gay and happy--gay and happy,
We'll be gay and happy still.
We've left our homes and those we cherish
In our good old Maryland,
Rather than wear chains, we'll perish,
Side by side and hand in hand.
So let the guns, etc.
Page 21
Old Virginia needs assistance,
Northern hosts invade her soil;
We'll present a firm resistance,
Courting danger, fire and toil.
So let the guns, etc.
Then let the drums and muskets rattle,
Fearless as our sires of yore,
We'll not leave the field of battle
'Till we've redeem'd old Baltimore.
So let the guns, etc.
*
The battle of Bethel (or Big Bethel Church, as some have it,)
was the initiatory field fight of the war. It was fought on the 10th
day of June, at the place named, on the line between Elizabeth City
and York Counties, Va. The Confederate forces, numbering between
1,800 and 2,000 men, were under the command of Col. J. B. Magruder
(since promoted to Brigadier General), an accomplished soldier, late
of the United States Army. The place is six miles from Newport
News, sixteen from Yorktown, and eight from Hampton. After several skirmishes, by way of prelude,
commenced the pitched
battle. The details of the Southern and Northern journals were very conflicting--though the latter
acknowledged a severe defeat and heavy
slaughter of their troops. At "Little Bethel" the Federals whipped
themselves in this manner: A German regiment, mistaking the signal,
fired on Colonel Townsend's column, marching in close order, who
returned the fire. Townsend's fire was harmless, but the Germans'
killed one and wounded two. Duryea's Zouaves hearing the firing,
fired upon the Albanians (Townsend's). In all five were killed and
quite a number wounded. The battle was fierce; the enemy's force exceeded 4,000, and, strange
to say, our loss was only one man, with two wounded, while that of the
Federals amounted to hundreds. In this fight Cols. Magruder and Hill
signalized themselves, as also did the brave North Carolina volunteers
and the Richmond Howitzers. The fight was carried on altogether
by Virginians and North Carolinians. A Louisiana regiment arrived
from Yorktown to late to participate.
Happy that band, while lolling on the ground,
The jocund tale and merry laugh went round;
Stories of home, of fair ones left behind,
Of mothers tender, fathers stern, yet kind;
When the drum beat, and soon in bright array,
The martial'd host their polish'd arms display.
To Bethel Church--th' advanced post of the works,
*
Within its range the bold invader lurks.
Onward they march'd, and, when they reach'd ground,
They threw up earthworks, fell'd the trees around,
Page 22
Planted their guns, fill'd pits with riflemen
Commanding road and field and miry fen;
While Howitzers their brazen war-dogs placed
To watch the path the Yankee foot disgraced.
Magruder stood and watch'd th' advancing foe
Whose flashing bay'nets fill'd the pass below;
With clashing steel and polish'd tube they come,
With waving flag and beat of hollow drum.
"Down, down," he cried, "lay low, my gallant boys,
And when their front around that clump deploys,
Then give it them." Each hammer then went click!
The men so still--they scarcely seem'd to think;
Silence was eloquent--the bird of prey
Look'd mutely on, and soar'd far, far away.
The gallant Stuart on the breastwork stood
And mark'd the Zouaves struggling thro' the wood;
They leap'd the fence--crawl'd onward thro' the brush,
Like stealthy cats, then made a frantic rush;
"Fire!" he scream'd; the Life Guard blaz'd away,
And many a widow mourn'd that bloody day.
Page 23
The howitz spoke at Randolph's loud command,
Mowing down ranks and tearing up the land;
While bursting shells threw devastation round,
And scatter'd mangled limbs along the ground.
Men of the brave old North State! Where are they?
Look to the left where wildly swells the fray
The cool and fearless Hill is there; his sword
Given to Death--his silent prayer to God.
Volley on volley--rifles true--carbines--
And quick revolver rake the staggering line:
They break--they fly--the cavalry pursue,
And slaughter, as they go, the vanquish'd crew.
*On the 17th June the battle of Kansas
City took place. 1,300
Federal troops made an attack upon about the same number of State
troops under the command of Capt. Kelley. After a desperate fight
the Federals were repulsed, leaving 200 killed on the field of battle,
150 prisoners, four pieces of cannon, &c. Loss of the State troops 45
killed and wounded. ** On the 17th of June a severe affair took
place at Vienna, about
fifteen miles from Alexandria, between Col. McCook's 1st Ohio regiment and other troops under Gen. Schenck,
and a detachment of Confederate
Artillery, supported by a South Carolina regiment under Col. Gregg. According to accounts, Col. G.
received orders to go on a reconnoitering
expedition. He took with him 600 South Carolinians, a
company of Kemper's Artillery and two companies of cavalry, including
45 of Capt. Ball's Chester company, and Capt. Terry's company, of
Bedford. After ascertaining the position and number of the enemy,
who were encamped on the Maryland side, he formed his command into
column at Dranesville, and marched down the road to Vienna. Here
he remained only long enough to tear up the track of the Alexandria,
Loudon and Hampshire Railroad and destroy the water-tank, after which
he started to return to Dranesville. The troops had proceeded about
half a mile, when the whistle of a locomotive was heard in the distance;
whereupon he immediately halted, wheeled his column and
marched rapidly back to Vienna. They had scarcely time to place two
cannon in position, when the train of cars came slowly around a curve,
pushed by a locomotive. They were crowded with armed men. Just as the train was about to stop, the artillery
fired a well directed
shot from one of the guns, which raked the cars fore and aft.
Consternation and dismay seized the Federals, and, after another fire, they
hastily left the cars and took to the woods. The entire train was captured.
Six of the invaders were killed--they were composed of regulars
and Michigan volunteers. The National Intelligencer reported
the killed and wounded of the Federals in this affair at 200.
Vict'ry now play'd around the Southern flag,
With dazzling wings she fann'd its stars and bars
Her cheering cry was heard on mountain crag,
And echo'd in the vales with loud huzzas.
The beardless stripling panted for a fight,
While tottering age with locks of snowy white,
Sigh'd for youth's vigor--feebly rais'd his crutch
In mimic fight with Yankee, Irish, Dutch.
In Kansas, Kelley met th' encroaching foe,*
And, with his State troops, laid their stoutest low;
While at Vienna, Gregg the foemen check'd,
Scatter'd their men--their cars and baggage wreck'd.**
Page 24
*On the morning of the 19th June, an engagement took
place at
New Creek Depot, eighteen miles west of Cumberland, on the Baltimore
and Ohio Railroad, between a body of Tennesseeans and Virginians,
under Col. Vaughan, and about 250 of the enemy, who fired a few
random shots, and then broke and fled. Our troops captured two guns
and a stand of colors. ** This affair is thus detailed. As Capt. Ashby with
his brother were
proceeding along a road with 14 men of their troop, they were accosted
by a man who represented himself as a deserter, and professed a
willingness to conduct the squad to a position where they could take some prisoners. The offer was accepted, the
men proceeding on under the
guidance of the deserter, till they arrived at a point in the road where
the squad was divided, each half taking different courses. Very shortly thereafter the deserter led them
into a place where they
were surrounded by fifty of the enemy, who called on them to surrender.
This demand was replied to by a discharge of fire-arms, which
was answered by the Hessians. In a short time the remainder of
squad rejoined their comrades, and united their exertions in repelling
the enemy. In this they were successful, eighteen of the Hessians
having been killed. Two of Ashby's men were killed, and a number
wounded. Capt. Ashby received four wounds, and his horse fell dead
as he was leaving the field which the enemy ran from, and escaped
across a small river to evade pursuit. The brother, Capt. Dick Ashby,
was fatally wounded. Turner Ashby was afterwards promoted to a
Colonelcy, and fell nobly in the cause of the Southern Confederacy.
At New Creek, too, Vaughan, with Virginia's sons*
Caused them to fly before our Southern guns.
Near Romney, Ashby with a meagre band**
Of fourteen men fought bravely hand to hand
With fifty Hessians--thrash'd the thieving squad,
Leaving eighteen to bite the valley sod.
Page 25
*On the 30th June, a brilliant and romantic
achievement took place
on the Waters of the Potomac, which resulted in the capture of the
steamer St. Nicholas, a brig and two schooners, the brig was laden
with a valuable cargo of coffee, and the schooners one with ice and the
other with coal. Col. R. Thomas (known also as Col. Zarvona), of
Maryland, was the hero of this affair. Disguised as an old French lady,
who could not speak a word of English, he took passage on the St.
Nicholas, at Baltimore, for Washington. After getting down into the
bay he threw off his disguise, and, with the cooperation of his men,
who shipped as New York Zouaves, took the steamer. He was joined
by Capt. Hollins, of the Confederate Navy, at Point Lookout, who
participated in the capture of the other vessels. The other officers associated
with Zarvona in the achievement were Lieut. Geo. W. Alexander,
Adjutant, and Lieut. F. Gibson. These three headed the boarding
Parties in the captures. The steamer, after being placed in the hands
of Capt. Hollins, who was assisted by Lieuts. Sims and Minor, of the
C.S.N., and Lieut. Thorburn, of the Virginia Navy, with fifteen sailors
from the steamer Yorktown, captured the brig and schooners, and
proceeded to Fredericksburg. The value of the cargoes was estimated
at $375,000. Subsequently, however, he (Zarvona) had the temerity to visit Baltimore,
much against the advice of his friends. As was feared, spies
were watching his movements, and he was captured and imprisoned, not
being allowed the privilege of exchange.
Then brave Zarvona, with his comrades plann'd,*
A wild exploit which startled all the land.
He seized the proud St. Nicholas, and bore
His laden prize toward Virginia's shore;
Page 26
*On July 4th the Yankees, numbering about
10,000, while approaching
Martinsburg, were met by Col. Jackson's advance, consisting of a
portion of Col. Harper's regiment from Augusta County, about 700
strong, and a squadron of cavalry under Col. Stewart. A sharp fire
was kept up by the main bodies for an hour and a half, with a loss to
the enemy estimated at the minimum at 67 killed, 85 wounded and 53
prisoners--three killed on our side and five wounded. When the firing
ceased Col. Jackson fell back, to a more secure position. ** The Federal steamer Massachusetts,
belonging to the blockading
squadron off the coast of Louisiana, had captured in Mississippi Sound
four small schooners belonging to the Southerners, and bore them off
as prizes. A body of Floridians, under command of Maj. Widsmith,
armed the small steamer Madison with two light guns, and, while the
Massachusetts and her prizes were becalmed off the coast, bore down
upon one of them, the Fanny, captured her and the commanding
Lieutenant, Selden, with the prize crew. The other schooners were also
taken possession of and carried into Suwanee.
Three other barks, fill'd well with merchandize,
He brought in safe--a truly welcome prize.
Near Martinsburg again the foe was met,*
By gallant Jackson, who his front beset
With leaden hail, and many a wretch that day
Cold on the soil of old Virginia lay.
Our little navy, albeit, laurels won,**
Disputed every wave they floated on,
And spoke in tones of thunder to the foe,
"These seas are ours--no further shalt thou go!"
*** Col. Dreux, of Louisiana, fell in a
skirmish on the Peninsula 6th
July. He was killed by a fire from an ambuscade.
Now let fair Freedom don her sable weeds
And mourn the gallant Dreux, who nobly fell***
With clustering honors, won by daring deeds,
Shielding the noble cause he lov'd so well.
Page 27
*On the 10th July an engagement took place between
the advanced
guards or scouts, of Gens. Garnett's and McClellan's armies, near
Phillippi, Barbour Co., Va. The first Georgia regiment, Col. Ramsey,
encountered three regiments of the enemy, in which conflict the Federals
were routed. The Georgians took a number of prisoners and all
the camp equipage of the enemy. The Confederate loss was but two,
while that of the Federals was about sixty. This apparently small affair brought on the battles of Rich
Mountain
and Laurel Hill. The main army of the enemy advanced from
Phillippi, and took up a position on the hill about half a mile from the
Confederate post, which was, however, obstructed from view of the
latter by a still higher hill directly between the opposing forces. On hearing of their advance, our
General checked them by taking
possession of the hill on the left of them and about daybreak the two
forces commenced operations. The fight continued all day and part of
the night with little or no result except the loss of many lives. During
the night our forces retired from the field with the hope of inducing
the enemy to follow so as to get them within range of our guns. The brave stand made by our troops kept
the invaders at bay for
some time, but there was a reverse of fate in the conflict which took
place the next day, the 11th, at Rich Mountain. A detachment under
command of Lieut. Col. Pegram, which numbered only three companies,
was employed in raising earthworks on the mountain slope. This
small force succeeded in keeping in check, for some time, several
thousand Federal troops, and although sorely pressed not more than 40
were killed. The gallant Pegram was severely wounded and taken
prisoner. Many of the men in his command, who were believed to be
either killed or taken prisoners, afterwards reached Gen. Garnett's
camp. Col. Pegram's entire command consisted of about 1,000, which
were in three divisions, two of which were commanded by Cols. Heck
and Scott. The Federal troops, through the aid of a Union traitor,
managed to cut off Pegram from succor from either party; they heard
the roar of battle, but had received no orders to move. Scott,
when he saw no chance of succoring Pegram, ordered a retreat, which
was effected in good order to Greenbriar river. Col. Heck made his way
through the mountain passes and joined Garnett's forces, which were at
Laurel Hill. Nearly all of Capt. Irvin's company, from Buckingham, were killed, together with all the officers,
with the exception of Lieut.
Colonel Bondurant. The Southern loss was 75 killed and about
as many wounded. The Federal loss was 11 killed and 35 wounded. Gen. Garnett, on learning of the engagement,
left his entrenched
camp at Huttonville with the main body of his army, leaving what is
supposed to be but a camp guard there. He advanced to succor
Pegram, and had arrived within three miles of Beverly, when he was
met by Pegram's flying forces, who were foremost in the retreat. As
they rushed in among Garnett's troops, they created a panic which
made the General unable to control them; he retreated accordingly in
the direction of St. George's. McClellan followed up his immense conquest of a handful of Spartans,
and marched towards Beverly, encountering Gen. Garnett, with
the main body of Confederates, at Laurel Hill. The overwhelming
numbers of the invading army did not deter the gallant Garnett from
disputing his advance. He formed in line of battle, and poured a raking
fire into the enemy's ranks, which was promptly returned. A
charge was made upon his battery, which was feebly resisted by the
Confederates. In a short time the line gave way and the brave
Garnett was struck by a musket ball, and fell dead, while in the act of
attempting to tally his men.
At Phillippi a gallant Georgian band,*
Led on by Ramsey, took a fearless stand;
Foiled thrice their numbers, captured all their camp,
And made the boasters take the backward tramp.
With banners streaming, seven thousand strong
Came rushing on in columns dense and long;
Page 28
McClellan led the proud invading host,
While Garnett on the hill-slope took his post,
Cheer'd his worn men and bade them not forget
Their peaceful homes by hireling hands beset.
Upon Rich Mountain noble Pegram stood
Behind his new-made works of earth and wood;
The Fed'rals charged--the Spartan band gave way,
Their leader fell the foremost in the fray.
Then turned the tide of fight to Laurel Hill,
Where Garnett's forces stood like statues still;
Four times their number press'd upon their flanks,
And every volley thinn'd their pent-up ranks.
Their luckless chief with firmness stood the shock,
Which surging came, like waves against a rock;
"Be firm, my boys, aim low," brave Garnett cried--
A ball sped thro' the air--he fell and died!
Page 29
No braver man than he--true to the last;
A hero born--fell'd by misfortune's blast.
*On the 18th July the grand affair of Manassas opened with a
recontre between the advance guards of the Confederate army under
Gens. Beauregard and Johnston, and the invading army under Gen.
McDowell. The Southern troops were strongly entrenched at Manassas
Junction, and also had advanced batteries along the line of Bull
Run, about five miles towards Centreville. The advance guard of the
Federals was at the latter place 5,000 strong, our force numbering
about 3,000. On the 18th the invaders advanced towards Manassas
Junction, and attempted to cross the fords at several points, but were
repulsed by the Confederate troops three times, with a heavy loss on
their side. At about 5 o'clock in the afternoon they retreated in great
confusion, two of our regiments pursuing them. A large number were
taken prisoners. The casualties on the Confederate side were few. The pursuing regiments, finding a large force at Fairfax C. H., after
exchanging a few shots, returned to Bull Run Gen. Beauregard
preferring to give them battle there. The General was hurriedly sent for,
and quickly came to the scene of action, when he ordered a retreat,
which proved to be a brilliant strategic movement. At first the troops
murmured, but when they heard that it was Beauregard's wish,
were perfectly satisfied. The regiments engaged in this brilliant affair were the First Virginia,
Col. Moore, the Seventeenth (Alexandria), the Mississippi and the
Louisiana. The enemy outnumbered them in proportion of three to
one. The Washington Artillery, of New Orleans, were in the early
stage of the action. Col. Moore was wounded. Capt. James K. Lee
and Lieut. H. H. Miles were killed. The enemy's loss about 500--
ours 152 killed, wounded and missing. Two cannon and 500 stand
arms were taken from the enemy. This brilliant affair (sometimes called the battle of Bull Run) was
the prelude to the grand battle, which took place on Sunday, 21st, two
days after. Full of hope and emblazoned with arrogance, notwithstanding his
numerous defeats, Gen. Scott, urged, it was said, by barking politicians and editors, yielded to the cry of "ONWARD TO RICHMOND!" and
ordered Gen. McDowell to scatter Beauregard's forces to the four winds
of heaven. Months of preparation had completed his "Grand Army,"
and placed them upon a war footing. The word went forth from
Washington "Advance!"--and advance it was. The night before the expected victory, hosts of functionaries, congressmen, editors, reporters
and civilians rushed to witness the expected victory. Aye, even the
ladies so far forgot themselves as to join the gay party, and feast their
vision on ghastly corpses, broken limbs, and the unnatural struggle of
brother against brother and father against son. So sure were the
invaders of victory, that they brought rich viands, wines and cigars with
them for a merry feast on the field of blood and carnage! Gens. Johnston and Patterson had for some days previous been playing
a game of chess between Winchester, which was occupied by the
former, and Martinsburg, the quarters of the latter. Patterson, tired
of Johnston's by-play, made a retrograde towards the Potomac, probably
with the intention of joining McDowell, though he did not. The cunning
Johnston, suspecting this, made a forced march, and on the evening
of the 20th was by the side of Beauregard, while the Pennsylvania
commander was--nowhere. There are numerous accounts of this severe conflict--all of them
differ. Those of the northern journals, however graphic they may be,
are tinged with that illiberality which, during the entire war, characterized
the Republican press. Those of the southern journals were
carried away by enthusiasm and a warm, patriotic desire let the world
know what could be done by men fighting for their homes and those
they loved best. President Davis was on the field, and aided Beauregard and Johnston
in their grand work. History will give the details of this great victory for the young
republic--my limits will not allow me to enter into them; the dispatch
of President Davis sums up all. "The enemy was routed, and fled
precipitately, abandoning a very large amount of arms, munitions,
knapsacks and baggage. The ground was strewn with those killed for
miles, and the farm houses and grounds around were filled with his
wounded. The pursuit was continued along several routes towards
Leesburg and Centreville, until darkness covered the fugitives. We
have captured several field batteries and regimental standards, and one
United States flag. Many prisoners have been taken. Too high praise
cannot be bestowed, whether for the skill of the principal officers or
the gallantry of all the troops. The battle was warmly fought on our
left, several miles from our field works; our force engaged there not
exceeding fifteen thousand--that of the enemy estimated at thirty-five
thousand." In this severe battle the losses of both sides were as follows: Confederates. Federals. Killed . . . . . 393 1,000 Wounded . . . . . 1,200 2,500 Prisoners . . . . . 50 1,000 1,643 4,500
But hath the Muse no vict'ry to recount,
No glorious deeds to cause the soul to mount?
Aye--turn we now towards Manassas plains,*
Where gory Havoc all majestic reigns;
Where shouting hosts are charging front to front,
And snorting war-steeds court the battle's brunt;
Page 30
Where Beauregard and Johnston lead our arms,
And guide the lightning of the warring storms;
Where Davis stands all fearless on the field,
Quick to command, as quick the sword to wield.
Record, O Muse! that wild, that fearful strife,
Where clashing hosts with bayonet and knife
Prey'd on each other--spurred the fiery steed,
And laugh'd to see their dying kinsmen bleed.
Tell of the havoc of Confederate guns--
The shameful flight of Northern myrmidons;
Tell of the flash of bayonet and sword,
Tell of the brave, the peerless Beauregard.
Page 31
Red dawn stole up the cloudless eastern sky
In lambent rays; the pale stars shrunk away,
Until our eagle with unblinking eye
Gazed on the glowing face of th' god of day.
The mountain peaks were bright with morning's beam,
The forest warblers sang their matin song;
And gladly sparkled every valley stream,
Cheering the soldier as he march'd along.
Far off the foe, with steady tramp, advanc'd,
Their bayonets glitt'ring in the golden light;
While round our banners amorous breezes danc'd,
And brave men rallied for the coming fight.
On, on, true hearts! a foe pollutes your soil,
The welkin rings with shouts of scorn and ire;
Page 32
Crush the vile serpent in his deadly coil,
Consume him with a blast of lead and fire.
On speeds the stalwart Texan--eagle-eyed,
His faithful rifle takes its deadly poise;
While Georgia's nobles, charging side by side,
Shout their war-song above the conflict's noise.
Wild on the left the crash of arms is heard,
The iron dogs belch out their streams of fire;
But Johnston's there--he gives the cheering word,
And shouting ranks press on with mighty ire.
No kindly dews of Heav'n come down to cool
The parched lip or damp the burning head;
The sun looks down on many a bloody pool,
Where prostrate lies the gallant Southron--dead.
Virginia--mother--see thy dauntless sons,
Robed in the smoke of booming cannonry,
While whistling balls from Mississippi's guns
Reach hearts that throbbed to crush the brave and free.
Then the old line of groaning Maryland,
With piercing cry, still writhing in their chains,
Plunge in the fight with reeking sword in hand,
Strewing the foemen's dead along the plains.
The old North legions wake the echo's song,
The proud Palmetto sign 'mid dun clouds soars;
While Alabama's hosts rush fast along,
And struggle where the wildest tumult roars.
Lo! Louisiana's sons, with brawny arm,
Their brazen war-dogs wield; while Tennessee
Rolls in her cohorts--like a howling storm
Blasting the foe with lightning of the free.
Page 33
With glittering knife, the men of Arkansas