And that was a part only. It was not only famine and hardship whichthey underwent, but the incessant combats--and mortal tedium--of thetrenches. Ah! the trenches! Those words summed up a whole volume ofsuffering. No longer fighting in open field; no longer winter-quarters,with power to range; no longer freedom, fresh air, healthfulmovement--the trenches!
Here, cooped up and hampered at every turn, they fought through allthose long months of the dark autumn and winter of 1864. They were nolonger men, but machines loading and firing the musket and the cannon.Burrowing in their holes, and subterranean covered-ways, they crouchedin the darkness, rose at the sound of coming battle, manned thebreastworks, or trained the cannon--day after day, week after week,month after month, they were there in the trenches at their grim work;and some fiat of Destiny seemed to have chained them there to battleforever! At midnight, as at noon, they were at their posts. In thedarkness, dusky figures could be seen swinging the sponge-staff,swabbing the cannon, driving home the charge. In the starlight, themoonlight, or the gloom lit by the red glare, those figures, resemblingphantoms, were seen marshalled behind the breastworks to repel thecoming assault. Silence had fled from the trenches--the crash ofmusketry and the bellow of artillery had replaced it. That seemed neverto cease. The men were rocked to sleep by it. They slept on in the darktrenches, though the mortar-shells rose, described their flaming curves,and, bursting, rained jagged fragments of iron upon them. And tomany that was their last sleep. The iron tore them in their tatteredblankets. They rose gasping, and streaming with blood. Then theystaggered and fell; when you passed by, you saw a something lying on theground, covered with the old blanket. It was one of "Lee's Miserables,"killed last night by the mortars--and gone to answer, "Here!" before theMaster.
The trenches!--ah! the trenches! Were you in them, reader? Thousandswill tell you more of them than I can. There, an historic army wasguarding the capital of an historic nation--the great nation ofVirginia--and how they guarded it! In hunger, and cold, and nakedness,they guarded it still. In the bright days and the dark, they stoodat their posts unmoved. In the black night-watches as by day--towardmorning, as at evening--they stood, clutching the musket, peering outinto the pitchy darkness; or lay, dozing around the grim cannon, in theembrasures. Hunger, and cold, and wounds, and the whispering voice ofDespair, had no effect on them. The mortal tedium left them patient.When you saw the gaunt faces contract, and tears flow, it was becausethey had received some letter, saying that their wives and children werestarving. Many could not endure that. It made them forget all. Torn withanguish, and unable to obtain furloughs for a day even, they went homewithout leave--and civilians called them deserters. Could such men beshot--men who had fought like heroes, and only committed this breach ofdiscipline that they might feed their starving children? And, after all,it was not desertion that chiefly reduced Lee's strength. It was battlewhich cut down the army--wounds and exposure which thinned its ranks.But thin as they were, and ever growing thinner, the old veterans whoremained by the flag of such glorious memories, were as defiant in thisdark winter of 1864, as they had been in the summer days of 1862 and1863.
Army of _Northern Virginia_!--old soldiers of Lee, who fought besideyour captain until your frames were wasted, and you were truly his"wretched" ones--you are greater to me in your wretchedness, moresplendid in your rags, than the Old Guard of Napoleon, or the threehundred of Thermopylae! Neither famine, nor nakedness, nor suffering,could break your spirit. You were tattered and half-starved; your forms,were warworn; but you still had faith in Lee, and the great cause whichyou bore aloft on the points of your bayonets. You did not shrink inthe last hour the hour of supreme trial. You meant to follow Lee to thelast. If you ever doubted the result, you had resolved, at least, on onething--to clutch the musket, to the end, and die in harness!
Is that extravagance--and is this picture of the great army of NorthernVirginia overdrawn? Did they or did they not fight to the end? Answer!Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, Charles City, every spot aroundPetersburg where they closed in death-grapple with the swarming enemy!Answer! winter of '64,--bleak spring of '65,--terrible days of thegreat retreat when hunted down and driven to bay like wild animals, theyfought from Five Forks to Appomattox Court-House--fought staggering, andstarving, and falling--but defiant to the last!
Bearded men were seen crying on the ninth of April, 1865. But it was_surrender_ which wrung their hearts, and brought tears to the grimfaces.
Grant's cannon had only made "Lee's Miserables" cheer and laugh.
IV.
THE BLANDFORD RUINS.
These memories are not cheerful. Let us pass to scenes more sunny--andthere were many in that depressing epoch. The cloud was dark--but inspite of General Grant, the sun would shine sometimes!
After reading the _Examiner's_ comments, I mounted my horse and rodeinto Petersburg, where I spent a pleasant hour in conversation witha friend, Captain Max. Do you laugh still, my dear Max? Health andhappiness attend you and yours, my hearty!
As I got into the saddle again, the enemy began a brisk shelling. Theshell skimmed the roofs of the houses, with an unearthly scream; and onestruck a chimney which it hurled down with a tremendous crash. In spiteof all, however, the streets were filled with young women, who continuedto walk quietly, or to trip along laughing and careless, to buy a ribandor some trifle at the stores.[1] That seemed singular then, and seemsmore singular to-day. But there is nothing like being accustomed toany thing--and the shelling had now "lost its interest," and troublednobody.
[Footnote 1: Real.]
"Good!" I said, laughing, "our friends yonder are paying us theirrespects to-day. They have dined probably on the tons of turkey sentfrom New England, and are amusing themselves shelling us by way ofdessert."
And wishing to have a better view of the lines, I rode toward Blandford.
Do you remember the ivy-draped ruins of the old "Blandford church,"my dear reader? This is one of our Virginia antiquities, and isworth seeing. Around the ruins the large graveyard is full of eleganttombstones. Many are shattered to-day, however, by the Federal shell, asthe spot was near the breastworks, and in full range of their artillery.In fact it was not a place to visit in the fall of 1864, unless you werefond of shell and a stray bullet. I was somewhat surprised, therefore,as I rode into the enclosure--with a hot skirmish going on a few hundredyards off--to see a young officer and a maiden sitting on a grassbank, beneath a larch tree, and conversing in the most careless mannerimaginable.[1]
[Footnote 1: Real.]
Who were these calmly indifferent personages? Their backs were turned,and I could only see that the young lady had a profusion of auburn hair.Having dismounted, and approached, I made another discovery. The youthwas holding the maiden's hand, and looking with flushed cheeks into hereyes--while she hung her head, the ringlets rippling over her cheeks,and played absently with some wild flowers, which she held between herfingers.
The "situation" was plain. "Lovers," I said to myself; "let me notdisturb the young ones!"
And I turned to walk away without attracting their attention.
Unfortunately, however, a shell at that instant screamed over the ruin;the young girl raised her head with simple curiosity--not a particle offear evidently--to watch the course of the missile; and, as the youthexecuted the like manoeuvre, they both became aware of my presence atthe same moment.
The result was, that a hearty laugh echoed among the tombstones; andthat the youth and maiden rose, hastening rapidly toward me.
An instant afterward I was pressing the hand of Katy Dare, whom I hadleft near Buckland, and that of Tom Herbert, whom I had not seen sincethe fatal day of Yellow Tavern.
V.
LES FORTUNES.
The auburn ringlets of Katy Dare were as glossy as ever; her blue eyeshad still the charming archness which had made me love her from thefirst. Indeed her demeanor toward me had been full of such winningsweetness that it made me her captive; and I now pressed the littlehand, and looked into
the pretty blushing face with the sentiment whichI should have experienced toward some favorite niece.
Katy made you feel thus by her artless and warm-hearted smile. Howrefrain from loving one whose blue eyes laughed like her lips, and whoseglances said, "I am happier since you came!"
And Tom was equally friendly; his face radiant, his appearancedistinguished. He was clad in a new uniform, half covered with goldbraid. His hat was decorated with a magnificent black plume. His cavalryboots, reaching to the knee, were small, delicate, and of the finestleather. At a moderate estimation, Tom's costume must have cost himthree thousand dollars!--Happy Tom!
He grasped my hand with a warmth which evidently came straight from theheart; for he had a heart--that dandy!
"Hurrah! old fellow; here you are!" Tom cried, laughing. "You came uponus as suddenly as if you had descended from heaven!"
"Whither you would like to send me back! Am I wrong, Tom?"
And I shot a glance of ancient and paternal affection at these two youngthings, whose _tete-a-tete_ I had interrupted.
Katy blushed beautifully, and then ended by laughing. Tom caressed hisslender mustache, and said:---
"My dear fellow, I certainly should like to go to heaven--consequentlyto send my friends there--but if it is all the same to everybody, Ithink I would prefer--hem!--deferring the journey for a brief period, myboy."
"Until an angel is ready to go with you!"
And I glanced at the angel with the ringlets.
"Ah, my dear Surry!" said Tom, smoothing his chin with his hand, "youreally have a genius for repartee which is intolerable, and not to beendured!"
"Let the angel sit in judgment!"
"Oh, you have most 'damnable iteration!'"
"I learned it all from you."
"From me, my boy?"
"Certainly--see the beauty of repetition in poetry."
And looking at the damsel, I began to repeat--
"Katy! Katy! Don't marry any other! You'll break my heart, and kill me dead, And then be hanged for murder!"
The amount of blushing, laughter, pouting, good humor, and hilaritygenerally, which this poem occasioned, was charming. In a few minutes wewere all seated again on the grassy bank, and Tom had given me a historyof his adventures, which had not been either numerous or remarkable. Hehad been assigned to duty on the staff of General Fitzhugh Lee, and itwas delightful to hear his enthusiasm on the subject of that gay andgallant officer.
"I tell you he's a trump, old fellow," quoth Tom, with ardor. "He's asbrave as steel, a first-rate officer, a thorough gentleman, generous,kind, and as jolly as a lark! Give me Fitz Lee to fight with, or marchwith, or hear laugh! He was shot in the Valley, and I have been with himin Richmond. In spite of his wound, which is a severe one, he is as gayas the sunshine, and it would put you in good spirits only to go intohis chamber!"
"I know General Fitz well, Tom," I replied, "and you are right abouthim; every word you say is true, and more to boot, old fellow. So youare cruising around now, waiting for your chief to recover?"
"Exactly, my dear Surry."
"And have captured the barque _Katy!_"
"Humph!" quoth Miss Katy, tossing her head, with a blush and a laugh.
"Beware of pirates," I said, "who make threats even in theirverses,--and now tell me, Miss Katy, if you are on a visit toPetersburg? It will give me true pleasure to come and see you."
"Indeed you must!" she said, looking at me with the most fascinatingsmile, "for you know you are one of my old friends now, and must notneglect me. I am at my aunt's, Mrs. Hall,--uncle brought me a monthago from Buckland; but in the morning I shall go down to a cousin's inDinwiddie."
"In Dinwiddie, Miss Katy?"
"Yes, near the Rowanty. My cousin, Mr. Dare, has come for me."
"Well, I will visit you there."
"Please do. The house is called 'Disaway's.'"
I bowed, smiling, and turned to Tom Herbert.
"When shall I see you again, Tom, and where? Next week--at Disaway's?"
Tom colored and then laughed. This dandy, you see, was a good boy still.
"Well, old fellow," he replied, "I think it possible I may visitDinwiddie. My respected chieftain, General Fitz, is at present reposingon his couch in Richmond, and I am bearer of bouquets as well as ofdispatches between him and his surgeon. But I am told he is ordered toDinwiddie as soon as he is up. The country is a new one; the thoughthas occurred to me that any information I can acquire by--hem!--atopographical survey, would be valuable. You perceive, do you not, mydear friend? You appreciate my motive?"
"Perfectly, Tom. There will probably be a battle near 'Disaway's.'"
"And I'd better ride over the ground, eh?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'll do it!"
"Only beware of one thing!"
"What, my dear Surry?" asked Tom, anxiously.
"There is probably a conservatory at Disaway's."
"A conservatory?"
"Like that near Buckland, and the battle might take place _there_. If itdoes--two to one you are routed!"
Katy blushed exquisitely, smiled demurely, and burst into laughter. Thencatching my eye she raised her finger, and shook her head with sedatereproach, looking at Tom. He was laughing.
"All right, I'll look out, Surry!"
"Resolve on one thing, Tom."
"What is that?"
"That you will never surrender, but be taken in arms!"
With which mild and inoffensive joke I shook hands with Tom, informinghim where to find me; made Miss Katy a bow, which she returned witha charming smile and a little inclination which shook together herringlets; and then leaving the young people to themselves, I mounted myhorse, and returned to the Cedars.
All the way I was smiling. A charming influence had descended upon me.The day was brighter, the sunshine gayer, for the sight of the youngfellow, and the pretty little maiden, with her blue eyes, like theskies, and her ringlets of silken gold!
VI.
ON THE BANKS OF THE ROWANTY.
When I again set out for the cavalry, a few days after the scene atBlandford church, the youth and sunshine of those two faces still dweltin my memory, and I went along smiling and happy.
Not even the scenes on the late battle-field beyond the Rowanty, mademy mood gloomy; and yet these were not gay. Graves were seen everywhere;the fences were broken down; the houses riddled by balls; and in thetrampled roads and fields negroes were skinning the dead horses, tomake shoes of their hides. On the animals already stripped sat hugeturkey-buzzards feeding. My horse shied as the black vultures rosesuddenly on flapping wings. They only circled around, however, sailingback as I disappeared.
Such is war, reader,--a charming panorama of dead bodies and vultures!
Turning into the Quaker road, I went on until I reached thehead-quarters of General William H.F. Lee, opposite Monk's Neck. Here,under the crest of a protecting hill, where the pine thickets affordedhim shelter from the wind, that gallant soldier had "set up hisrest"--that is to say a canvass fly, one end of which was closed with athick-woven screen of evergreens. My visit was delightful, and I shallalways remember it with pleasure. Where are you to-day, general,and good comrades of the old staff? You used to laugh as hard as youfought--so your merriment was immense! Heaven grant that to-day, whenthe bugles are silent, the sabres rusting, you are laughing as in thedays I remember!
Declining the friendly invitation to spend the night, I went on in theafternoon; and on my way was further enlivened by a gay scene whichmakes me smile even to-day. It was in passing General Butler'sheadquarters near the Rowanty. In the woods gleamed his white tents;before them stretched the level sandy road; a crowd of staff officersand others, with the general in their midst, were admiring two glossyponies, led up by two small urchins, evidently about to run a race onthem.
Butler--that brave soldier, whom all admired as much as I did--waslimping about, in consequence of a wound received at Fleetwood. In theexcitement of the approaching
race he had forgotten his hurt. Andsoon the urchins were tossed up on the backs of their little glossysteeds--minus all but bridle. Then they took their positions about threehundred yards off; remained an instant abreast and motionless; then aclapping of hands was heard--it was the signal to start--and the poniescame on like lightning.
The sight was comic beyond expression. The boys clung with their knees,bending over the floating manes; the little animals darted by; theydisappeared in the woods "amid thunders of applause;" and it wasannounced that the roan pony had won.
"Trifles," you say, perhaps, reader; "why don't our friend, the colonel,go on with his narrative?"
True,--the reproach is just. But these trifles cling so to the memory!I like to recall them--to review the old scenes--to paint the "trifles"even, which caught my attention during the great civil war. This isnot a history, friend--only a poor little memoir. I show you our dailylives, more than the "great events" of history. That is the way thebrave Butler and his South Carolinians amused themselves--and the figureof this soldier is worth placing amid my group of "paladins." He wasbrave--none was braver; thoroughbred--I never saw a man more so. Hissword had flashed at Fleetwood, and in a hundred other fights; and itwas going to flash to the end.
I pushed on after the pony race, and very soon had penetrated the beltof shadowy pines which clothe the banks of the Rowanty, making of thiscountry a wilderness as singular almost as that of Spottsylvania.Only here and there appeared a small house, similar to that of Mr.Alibi's--all else was woods, woods, woods! Through the thicket woundthe "military road" of General Hampton; and I soon found thathis head-quarters were at a spot which I had promised myself tovisit--"Disaway's."
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 34
