LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 0001.3773b3H Class E- 4 H' 3 _ Book ,K34-S1- \^ \3-^b Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. Transfer from U. S. Soldier s Home Uby. Oct.28,l93X THE FENIlSrSULA.R CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA, OR INCIDENTS AND SCENES ON THE BATTLE-FIELDS AND IN RICHMOND. BY Bev. J. J. MAEKS, D. D KIFTH EDITIOir. PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1864, TO SamttH .Small, dpsq., OP YORK, PENNSYLVANIA, THIS WORK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, AS A MARK OF ESTEEM AND AFFECTION FOR ONE WHO DESERVES THE HIGHEST PLACE IN THE REGARDS OF THE AUTHOR FOR MANV ACTS OF FRIENDSHIP AND HOSPITALITY SHOWN HIM WHEN A STRANGER ; BUT MORE ESPECIALLY TO GIVE VOICE TO THE GRATITUDE OF THOUSANDS FOR A CHARITY MOST MUNIFICENT AND UNCEASING, WHICH HAS SOLACED AND COMFORTED MULTI- TUDES OF OUR SOLDIERS, DISABLED AND WOUNDED IN THE SER- VICE OF THEIR COUNTRY. JAMES J. MARKS. PREFACE. This work is given to the public with many misgivings, for it has been prepared by camp-fires, in the midst of hos- pital labors and marches on the Rappahannock, in the moun- tains of Virginia, and under the pressure of exhausting du- ties. The author has had no time for retirement, for con- sultation of authorities, or trimming away excrescences and redundancies. He is, therefore, painfully conscious of a thousand defects and blemishes, which are the consequences of hasty preparation. He might never have obtruded himself upon the notice of more than a few too partial friends, had not disease, induced by exposure, compelled his leaving the army in the field ; and urged to the efi"ort by many companions in tribulation, he could not resist the temptation to gather from his portfolio the fragmentary memorials of a never-to-be-forgotten cam- paign. Encouraged by the approbation of many friends, he has given to the world the memories of those days. He has been prompted to this, in part, from the desire to show to the country the gratitude due to the noble Army of the Potomac, by the record of its labors and sufi"erings. He likewise hoped to contribute one or more leaves to the history yet to be written, — for, in this early twilight, no man is able to 1* (v) Vi PEEFACE. write a history of the Peninsular campaign worthy of the name. Time is a great teacher ; and every year, for the next quarter of a century, will break the seals of mystery, and dis- close the hidden causes of movements which for a long time mocked our curiosity, and eluded our research. He has not, therefore, had the presumption to attempt to write the history of that celebrated campaign, but has aimed rather to give personal impressions, and to record the scenes and events of which he was the witness. In the haste of such compilation he may have made criticisms too sweeping, and seemingly too severe, as is inti- mated by my excellent friend. Dr. Swinburne ; but let it be remembered that no man's vices in the army are pushed into such an odious and unendurable prominence as those of a self-indulgent, intemperate, and heartless surgeon. No one endures more, and perils more, than the faithful surgeon. The author cannot but hope that all who read his work will do him the justice to believe that, if he has spoken too severely, it has been because cases of shameless neglect of duty have forced themselves upon his notice ; but for no class of men does he entertain profounder respect, and sincerer friendship, than for those surgeons who made it their constant eflfort to relieve the miseries of sickness, and to heal by all the resources of their art, and humane attentions, the wounds received in battle. THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. Introduction Pa&e ix CHAPTER I. Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many Virginia Families — Fairfax Seminary — Bishop Meade ... 21 CHAPTER II. Encampment on the Farm of George Mason, Esq. — Character of this Man — Appearance of the Country — General Desolation — The Dis- cipline of the Camp — General .Jameson — Mrs. Jameson — The Daily Life of the Army — Personal Influence of Officers. 2S CHAPTER III. The Chaplain and his Duties — Distribution of Books — Religious Ser- vices — The Obstacles to Success — No Protection nor assigned Duties — Treatment of the Chaplains by many Officers — The Tendencies of Military Law 44 CHAPTER IV. The Revival — Gloom and Discontent from Inaction — Tent for Public Worship — Dedication Scene — The Soldier alone with his Mother — The Formation of a Camp Church — Progress of the Revival — Letter of Mansfield Brown, Esq 58 CHAPTER V. Scenes in the Neighborhood of Mount Vernon — The Quakers — Their Loyalty — The Washington Family, and Traditions of General Wash- ington — The Lewis Estate — Our Pickets in that Neighborhood — The Old Church of Washington at Pohick — The various Great Estates in that Neighborhood — A Woman's Revenge. 67 (Yii) Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. The Slaves — Their Condition — Story of Hanson Yerly 89 CHAPTER VII. Embarkation for the Peninsula — Fortress Monroe — Early Discoveries — Description of the Country and its Wealth — Fight between the Merrimac and Monitor — Excitement and Terror at the Fortress Ill CHAPTER VIII. Fortress Monroe — The Ruins of Hampton — The Scene attending its Destruction — The Assembling of the Grand Army of the Potomac on the Plains of Hampton — The Novelty and Splendor of the Spectacle — March upon Yorktown 127 CHAPTER IX. Yorktown — Memorials of the Revolution — Antiquities — General Porter's Balloon Ascension and Discoveries — Colonel Samuel Black — His Character 140 CHAPTER X. Retreat of the Enemy — The Torpedoes left in the Streets, and around Wells — The Sick left behind — The Hospitals created — Night Scene in the Forest — Captain W. Brown 147 CHAPTER XI. Battle of Williamsburg — Attack of Hooker — Bravery of Kearney — The Dead Soldier in the Road — Williamsburg — Its Historic Monu- ments — William and Mary College — A Negro compelled to Dig his own Grave — A Conversation with a Duellist 156 CHAPTER XII. Second Visit to Yorktown — Scene in the Prison — Hunt for the Army on Return — Crossing the Chickahomiuy — Sick at Baltimore Cross- roads — Interview with General Kearney — Letter from the General... 170 CHAPTER XIII. Battle of Pair Oaks — Dash of General Longstreet on General Casey's Division — Severity of the Contest — Severe Losses of some Regiments — Scene on Saturday night at Savage Station — Conversation with the Wounded and Dying — The Battle of Sunday Morning 187 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER XIV. General Stuart's Cavalry Raid — Wild Commotion on the Pamunky — Hospital at Carter's House — Arrival of General Franklin's Troops — Mr. Alvord's Labors 213 CHAPTER XV. Commencement of the Seven Days' Battles — Second Battle of Fair Oaks, on Wednesday, June 25th — Battle of Mechanicsville, on Thurs- day, June 26th — Battle of Gainesville, on Friday, June 27th — Scenes amongst the Wounded at Savage Station — Narrow Escape of Rev. Mr. Dickson — Mr. Brunot, of Pittsburg — Dr. Swinburne, of Albany.. 221 CHAPTER XVI. Sunday, June 29th. Consternation and Alarm in the Hospital — Scene at Savage Station — The drawing in of our Pickets — The Destruction of our Military and Commissary Stores — The Burning Train — The Grand Appearance of Sumner's Rear-guard — Battle of Savage Station 236 CHAPTER XVII. Monday Morning, June ZQth. Silence of the Morning after the Battle — The Rebel Soldier reconnoi- tring — The Surrender of the Hospitals — Refusal of German Marines to surrender — German Soldier at Meadow Station — Peril of Chaplain Sloan — Conversation with a Confederate OflQcer, Captain Taylor, of New Kent 258 CHAPTER XVIII. Monday, June 30th. March of the Army from Savage Station — Guns left behind — Frequent halts for return of Scouts — Movements of the Enemy — Crossing White Oak Swamp — Uncertainty of every Step — The relief — Night firing — Position of our Army on Monday — Battle of White Oak Swamp — Exciting Scenes 271 CHAPTER XIX. Malvern Hill. The Preparations for the Battle — The Scene — The Imposing Grandeur of the Spectacle — Commencement of the Action — Consternation and Panic of the Confederates — Scene at the Hospital 288 X CONTENTS, CHAPTER XX. Thursday, July Zd. Report of Dr. Skelton from the Battle-field— Visit to the Sick at White Oak Swamp— Visit to the Battle-field of Glendale— Condition of the Confederate Army — Nolan, the Singer — Lonely Night Kide 302 CHAPTER XXI. Sabbath, July 6th. Return to the Hospitals in the Battle-fields — Captain Reed and his son William — Visit from the Rev. Mr. Moore, of Richmond — The Dead Soldiers — The Hospital in the Willis Church — Dr. Marsh — Visit to the Hospital of Dr. Donnelly — Adjutant 0. H. Gaither — Conversa- sation with an Irish officer 326 CHAPTER XXII. Removal of Mr. Brunot and Volunteer Nurses to Richmond — Funeral at Carter's House — Soldier's Conversation with Stonewall Jackson.. 352 CHAPTER XXIII. Removal of the Sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station to Rich- mond — The Confederate Commissary's Criticisms on our Generals — The removal of seven hundred and fifty of our Wounded to Rich- mond on the 13th July — Scenes in the Streets — Libby Prison 365 CHAPTER XXIV. Night Scene and Conversation in Libby Prison — Nolan and his Song — Scene at the Dep8t, July 16th — Feeding the Hungry — German Charity 391 CHAPTER XXV. Sufi'ering in Prison — Captain Demming — Death of Adjutant Gaither — Heroism of Warburton — Haversack of the Dead Soldier — Deathless Love — Sergeant Abbey 416 CHAPTER XXVI. The continuance of Scenes in Libbj' Prison — Orders to depart from Richmond — Scenes on Saturday Morning — Petersburg — Major Ker — Conversation at the Dep6t — Journey to City Point — Infamous Conduct of an United States Surgeon — Joy of the Prisoners — Re- port to General Kearney — His Character — Conclusion 424 Appendix , 443 INTEODUCTION. " Write," says my friend, the author, " an introduction to my book." This request, coming to me, as it did, from a gentleman whose good qualities of head and heart I learned, during my campaign on the Peninsula, to love, and whose self-sacrificing patriotism was admired by all who came within the influence of his presence, addresses me with the most po- tent influences urging me to compliance. And yet what shall I write ? Can I improve upon the work itself ? Can aught that I may say render more valuable, or even aid to call atten- tion to, the truthful descriptions, interesting incidents, and really valuable contents of the book ? These questions have naturally suggested themselves to my mind ) and at all times negative answers have been forced upon me. And yet, per- Jiaps I may say something to add to the interest which a pe- rusal of " The Peninsular Campaign; or, Incidents and Scenes on the Battle-fields and in Richmond," must everywhere in- cite in the glorious cause of the battle of freedom against re- bellion, anarchy, and tyranny, which is now shaking our whole country, North and South, as with the throes of an earth- quake; and upon the hopes of this, perhap)s induced mostly by love for my friend, and anxiety for the cause of our country, I was led to attempt to comply with the request of Dr. Marks. The rebellion of the so-called "Confederate States" against the United States Grovernment has brought with it an era in the progress of our country upon which historians, for ages to come, will write, and yet fail to exhaust the subject. But in no instance will any history be so valued as those coming from men who were participants in the scenes their willing ( xi) xii INTRODUCTION. pens depict. And it may be remarked, too, tliat the truth- fulness and value of any history of this rebellion will depend upon the near or remote degree in which the writer was re- lated to, or participated in, the scenes, views, and incidents he assumes to describe. In this view, this book will go down to posterity as a most valued and truthful, as it is now the most interesting, history of an important period in this con- test, which has found no lukewarm spectators within the sec- tions of country now claimed by, or allied to, either of the contending parties. This history of the Peninsular campaign will be sought for by the inhabitants especially of the Eastern, Middle, and Western States, with greater avidity than that of any other portion of the history of this rebellion, for the reasons that its brilliant commencement sent electric thrills of highest hope through the heart of every truly loyal man of the North and West ; its progress so tedious, for causes now known to but few outside the pale of the chiefs of the military departments of our Government (but which will, of course, be developed by the future historian), for months kept the hearts of the people of those districts in an agony of anxious suspense, impelling them frequently to heap upon the Govern- ment, and the" officers in command of our forces, scathing criticisms and bitter imprecations ; and its whole history was marked by the loss of the lives of thousands upon thousands of men, whose memories " will be green" in the hearts of their relatives, friends, and descendants in the North and West for ages to come. These losses, occurring as they did not alone by the rav- ages of " grim-visaged war," in their usual phases, but in numerous instances by want of care, disease, pestilence, and almost famine, in the camp and hospital, upon the roads and in the field, struck home to the hearts of the friends of the victims with more awful and grief-bearing effect than would have been the case had the news been brought to theii that their relatives had died on the field, while nobly fighting against the enemies of the " good old flag," which has, for over eighty years past, INTRODUCTION. Xlll over all tlic^^^orld, been recognized a;; tlie emblem of free- dom, and if?^ even now the ensign of tbe noblest nation of tlie earth ; ensiirMtd^; i^ is true, in tlie darkening, damning palls of civil war, yet looked upon, revered, and respected by tbe people of all otter countries as the brightest star in the con- stellation of the universe of nations. This awful destruction of life outside the usual course of war has been attributed, by friends and supporters of the dif- ferent parties of the country, and by the followers of different officers of the Government, to as many different causes as there have been parties and officers interested or implicated in the matter. Many of the alleged causes are truthful, to a certain extent, but all of them are overdrawn ; and very many more are entirely unfounded, disgraceful to those charging them, and only arising out of the evident desire of their supporters to heap unwarranted contumely upon the Government, or the officers by them arraigned; and that^ too, with a design thereby to further the still more evident and grossly treasonable in- tent to hinder the Govermnent in the speedy and siiccesa/ul prosecution of the loar, and thus give aid and comfort to the enemy in such a covert manner as to shield the authors from the penalties of open treason. Foremost among these assigned causes (and the only cause which the profession of the writer will justify him in discuss- ing to any extent) has been the alleged inefficiency in the con- duct of the medical department of the service during this campaign. It will be recollected that the celebrated Dr. Trip- ler, an old army surgeon, whose most valuable works upon military surgery have justly attained a fame as world-wide as the subject itself, was Medical Director of the Army of the Potomac at that time. It has been charged that, by reason of his neglectj the Army of the Peninsula was left without many things which were absolutely requisite for the proper administration of the medical department of that army; and that thus the soldiers, worn out by the fatigues of the march, 2 xiv INTEODUCTION. weakened by exposure to severe storms, and the dangerous miasmas of the swamps, and brought down to the hospital by disease, were literally allowed to die from want of these neces- saries, when they could have been promptly obtained at any time, as it is said, upon proper call. This charge, it has oc- curred to me, is grossly unjust to one whose highest aim in life has been to serve his country faithfully, and make him- self a useful and a shining ornament to the glorious profession he has adopted, and a lasting benefit to the human race. The office and duties of a faithful surgeon, even in civil life, is no sinecure; and when a surgeon of noblest mind and purest purpose, impelled by love of country, has chosen to abandon even the emoluments to be derived from the practice of his profession as a civilian, and is willing, for the paltry pittance allowed by Government, to assume the responsibilities and devote his utmost energies to the duties of Medical Director of an army so large as that over which Dr. Tripler had charge, it seems to me that even the pardonable anxiety of the friends of those dying under his charge is not excusable for a viola- - tion toward him of the ordinary rules of charity which are, in the " Book of Books," laid down for our conduct toward aU men. It has been made apparent to me, as well by the decla- rations of men who were in position to know the facts, as by my own experience in the matter, that the lack of proper ma- terials in the medical service of the army, at that time, was caused, not by the neglect of Dr. Tripler to call for them at the proper places under Government, but by the failure or inability of the Government to supply the articles he ordered. In my own experience in the Peninsular campaign, many incidents of which are referred to in this work, by the author, in terms of praise which have afforded me the most ample and gratifying reward for all I there endured, I found it at all times difficult to obtain a sufficient supply of many mate- rials which were absolutely necessary for the proper care and cure of the sick and wounded, and, in fact, I was many times utterly unable to obtain articles most needed ; and yet I have INTRODUCTION. XT had the most convincing proof that the Medical Director can- not be justly held responsible for this. The fault, I am con- vinced, laid nearer to the Government at Washington. To my mind the Surgeon-general (superior officer to the Medical Director) having the means at hand at Washington for ascer- taining, if he did not know, the proportions of war the cam- paign was assuming, — and knowing, as he must have known, the size of the army, the dangers by which that army were beset from the effects of the climate, the character of the coun- try, and the probabilities of battle, — was in duty bound to see that all necessary material was provided for the medical department of the service ; and it would be but a sickly com- pliment (as it is an illy-consoling excuse) for that officer to say that, perhaps, he did not realize all the necessities of the case. And yet the fact is patent, that there was, during the whole of this campaign, a lack of supplies for the medical and hospital departments, which, without doubt, was the cause of more deaths than occurred by the other and more direct casualties of war. It may be remarked here, in defence of Dr. Tripler, that although he has not, for a long time past, filled the office of Medical Director, yet at every battle since the removal of the army from Harrison's Landing (as I have been informed by a number of returned surgeons whose capacity and credibility cannot be questioned), the same lamentable defects in the medical service of the army have existed to a greater or less extent; as, for instance, in the location of, and supplies for, the hospital at Windmill Point, where days are said to have elapsed before necessary food and medical supplies were ob- tained, and a great number of our men actually died from lack of them ; the medical history of the battle of Antietam, at which it is charged, by Dr. Agnew, that at least five hun- dred men died from the want of medical supplies; the late battle of Chancellorsville, where thousands were, it seems to me, needlessly left in the hands of the enemy, when they might and should have been transferred to the other side XVI INTRODUCTION. of the river, and there received proper surgical attendance It is said that, after this battle, our brave wounded sdldiers, in many instances, laid for days without proper (and in some cases without any) food, and with no medical relief, many of them left to the mercies of the enemy, a large number dying from sheer neglect, and many more were buried alive in fires occasioned by the contending armies in shelling the woods, and in burning the Chancellor Hou.se. Where now rests the responsibility for all these incidents of lack of proper care and exertion in providing for the medi- cal department of the service ? Not on Dr. Tripler, certainly. If there were any faults in that gentleman's administration of the medical department of the Army of the Potomac, it seems apparent at a glance that those above him at the time, and yet in office, have not profited, or at any rate have not, for the advantage of the soldiers (who are, after all, most in- terested), availed themselves of and acted upon the instruc- tion which should have been derived from the development of such faults. The writer of this was one of a number of surgeons (all more or less known for their attainments in surgery, and many of them occupying the foremost ranks in their profession) who obeyed with alacrity the call for help which came forth, almost as with the wail of despair, from the Government and the officers and soldiers of our army, in anticipation of the heavy engagements which were to take place on the Penin- sula. These men, without reward, all left lucrative employ- ment at home, and aiforded most substantial assistance to the sick and wounded throughout the campaign ; and I am con- vinced not one of them can be found who will not coincide with me in my views as to the origin of the defects in the medical service of that campaign. Those men, knowing these defects, have called attention to them and their causes at home; and the result has been, that although many, if not all of them have been at all times since willing to extend the (same assistance thev at that time afforded to our sick and INTRODUCTION. XVU wounded, yet, by the fiat of those in power, they have been interdicted from so doing. The reason for this may\)Q found in an aversion, in high places, to the assistance of volunteer surgeons, who, seeing defects in the conduct of the depart- ment of the service pertaining to their profession, may deem it their duty to expose them. But enough of this. It is my intention to examine this subject more fully at another place; and at that time I shall deem it my duty, and it shall be my agreeable privilege, to discuss the matter, and expose the source of evil to its full extent. There have been many defects connected with the Penin- sular campaign (originating, no doubt, from the fact that the war of the rebellion had suddenly assumed proportions which no man, either North or South, had anticipated) which have since been successfully remedied by the Government. Many of these have been ably set forth by the author of this work. And indeed we may say with truth, the wonder now is that a Government so unaccustomed to war as ours had been has, in the space of two years and more of the most hotly contested struggle that ever convulsed a nation, exhibited so few fail- ings, and committed so few mistakes. What man is there among us who, two years ago to-day, would not have laughed to scorn the person who would have dared predict that this rebellion could have lasted to this day ? Who at that time dreamed that, before this hell-conceived uprising of a portion of our people against God's favored Government should cease, the armies upon either side would extend to millions ? And yet here, after two years of war, we find in the field, with either of the contestants, an army larger than has been supported by any Government for ages past. While, therefore, we all should claim the right to discuss freely (yet with charity) manifest errors or omissions of duty on the part of the Gov- ernment, or its representatives in the field, in the conduct of the war, we must not fail to render thanks to the " God of battles'' that he has enabled us, during the terrible contest 2* XVlll INTRODUCTION. Litlierto, to travel in the right path so far as we have. It must be conceded at all times, however, that errors loinked at always grow upon us ; and it is, therefore, the duty of every citizen who loves his country at all times fearlessly to call attention to manifest imperfection and mismanagement, or wil- ful misconduct in the administration of any branch of the Government, without regard to the question as to whose in- terests or feelings may be affected by the exposure. Let the idea once obtain, that citizens must wink at or pass silently over demonstrated derelictions, or even indiscretions, in the Grovernment or its officials (whether in times of war or peace), simply because they are the derelictions or indiscretions of the Grovernment or its officers, and we surrender at once the right of the master (the people) to hold the servant (their representative in office) to accountability for his stewardship. An honestly intended administration of the Government never can be weakened (but will always profit) by a frank exhibi- tion of its defects; and that public officer who is unwilling to have his attention, or that of his sovereigns (the people), called to errors in his administration as an officer, is a dis- honest man, and will always be an unsafe and unreliable ser- vant of the people. I have deemed proper thus to remark upon this subject, because of the dangerous extent to which the expression, " hold on until the loar is over^^ is now being used, whenever any one has the frankness to point out errors or indiscretions in the conduct of any de-partment in reference to the war. My idea is, call attention to and cure these errors and indiscretions, if you would hasten the speedy and successful termination of this unhappy contest. For these reasons I have full confidence that, hereafter, the good sense of the people will, with one accord, render heart- felt thanks to Dr. Marks for the fearless manner in which, at times during the progress of his narrative, he has pointed out what he conceived to be errors of omission or commission in the conduct of the Peninsular campaign ; and whether the reader agree or disagree with the conclusions of the nuthor, INTRODUCTION. . XIX all will be compelled to acknowledge that tlie tone of the work affords ample proof of his sincerity in the matter. Thus, I myself am compelled to differ, to some extent, with him in his conclusions as to the standard and character of the surgeons of the army as a body ; and yet I must admit that there are, and have been, numbers in that branch of the service to whom his strictures (and even more severe), are justly applicable. In my experience with the Army of the Potomac I found the majority of the surgeons to be competent, faithful, and effi- cient men, always attentive to the interests of the sick and wounded, and never avoiding, but always courting " the post of danger as the post of duty.'' As a body, a more reliable set of officers could not be found in the service. If the pro- portion of better surgeons in the army has since decreased, it is highly probable that this decrease has been caused by the manifest defects in the management of the medical de- p^tment, for which they were in no wise responsible, and which have been referred to in this work by Dr. Marks, and in this introduction by myself. Men of the highest attain- ments, and purest motives, will not always consent to stand silently by and see faults, for the effects of which they them- selves may be blamed, even though they may be convinced that, by remaining and suffering, they may yet do some good : and it is not yet clear to a demonstration that many valuable men have not been driven from the corps of sur- geons of the army by their aversion to undergo the military necessity of remaining silent as to defects and abuses in the medical department, which are detrimental more to their patients than themselves, and yet for which they are not in any way accountable. But the poorer class, caring nothing for these things, would naturally remain ; and hence, perhaps, the strictures often now indulged in against the surgeons as a class. And now a few words as to the author of this work. I met him, a stranger, at the White House. With a natural dispo- sition, on my part, to exercise the utmost caution in the selec- tion of my friends and confidents, I found in him a man who, XX INTRODUCTION. from the commencement of our acquaintance, enweaved him- self in my affections ; and even before we had encountered half the harrowing scenes through which a Divine Providence guided each of us in safety. I learned to look up to and love him for himself. A more useful man was not connected with the army at that time. No man came within the sphere of his duties, who was not most favorably impressed by his pres- ence; and the thousands of soldiers now living, who from time to time, during those " days of hlood'' were the recipi- ents of his goodly counsels, and most kind attentions, will, in after years, whenever the name of Dr. Marks is mentioned, " rise up and call him blessed.'' A true Christian, who had learned the importance of at times addressing men's souls through their physical necessities, and the (to the pastor) still more important duty of adapting himself to the vicissitudes of life, that he might the more effectually carry out his Chris- tian mission, he everywhere and on all occasions, by all his acts, demonstrated to those around him the dignity and use- fulness of the pastorate, and the excellency and divinity of Grospel Christianity. The influence of such a man in the army must have been seen to be appreciated. With such men for teachers, comforters, and counsellors, no army can be con- quered, no nation subdued. His usefulness as a chaplain did not, however, to the least extent, transcend his capacities in the hospital ; and all who are acquainted with the facts will willingly concede that the advance hospital station left in his charge was at all times maintained and managed by him in a more cleanly, efficient, and orderly manner than any others connected with the Army of the Peninsula. That Dr. Marks may, by his book, and by all his works in life, accomplish all the good the Almighty designed for him, and he so much desires ; and that he, with all true patriots, may now be permitted to rejoice in the rebellion crushed, and the good old Union restored, is the most earnest wish of his friend, John Swinburne, M. D. July IZd, 1868. INCIDENTS AND SCENES OF THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. CHAPTER I. Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many A^irginia Families — Fairfax Seminary — Bishop Meade. "We reached Washington City in August, 1861, — the companies composing the 63d Pennsylvania arriving at intervals of several days. Colonel (now General) A. Hays joined the regiment on the 16th of September ; and on Saturday, the 27th of September, we crossed the Potomac, going in boats to Alexandria. On the morning of the following day we disem- barked, and marched to a new encampment on the Leesburg road. Our tents were pitched on the property of Mrs. Dr. Powell, under the shadow of the fruit-trees in her orchard, around her mansion. We were now 1070 strong; the men were large, robust, and full of life ; the regiment excited the (21) 22 DR. JOHN CRAWFORD. interest of all the troops of the various States near us. We were at first included in the division com- manded by General Franklin, but were in a few days transferred to that of General Heintzleman. During our stay at Camp Hays, near Washing- ton, Dr. John Crawford came from Kittanning, Pa., and immediately commenced amongst us the duties of regimental surgeon. He was then in firm health, full of life, and enjoyed with the zest of a boy the strange scenes and novel adventures of camp-life. His presence was a constant charm to the men ; his face, always radiant and kindly, invited to trust in his sympathy. He was, moreover, a man of gentle and loving nature, highly gifted, not so much with the treasures of scholarship as with a memory that never failed him. Ardent in his nature, enthusiastic for all that was good and noble, he imparted his sym- pathies and emotions, like magnetic fire, to every one around him. He had the keenest relish for all that he esteemed beautiful and grand : every strik- ing scene, picture, or event unsealed the fountain, and there flowed forth the stream of song. Every hour spent in his company gave us some of the most precious gems of classical and English poetry. His nature was most afiectionate, leaning, probably, too much for happiness on his friends. Few men had a keener relish for society, and fewer still could im- part so much genuine enjoyment. l!Toble man! how sincerely we all mourned his loss, — passing away from us as he did in the very zenith of his power, and when there was opened for him the prospect so bright for usefulness to his country! VIRGINIA FAMILIES. 23 Bui if our loss was great, who can conceive tlie irreparable one to his family ? He imparted, in the few days that he was with us, the sunshine of hope ; and how much of the light of life must have fled from those who looked up to him as the solace and the strength of the future ! Opposite to our encampment was the yellow oc- tagonal house of Mrs. Lee. The houses of the inhab- itants of the country were nearly all deserted. The families that resided in this section were the most aristocratic in the State — the Lees, the Masons, Washingtons, Hunters, Spotswoods, Fairfaxes, were represented, and some of them still retained broad ancestral lands. La the South, the most wealthy and polished people are not the dwellers in cities and towns ; but the planters and country gentlemen are the representatives 'of the old families; and everything rich in ancestral memorials is found in their homes. Many of these families lived in the greatest opulence and ease. The summer, with the exception of an occasional excursion to Hampton Roads and Cape May, was spent on their estates. The winter was given to "Washington ; and hence the influence that Virginia for a long time exerted on the ]N'ational Government was owing to the social power of many highly polished families, who, every season, gave themselves to the plottings and pleas- ures of the capital. The sons of these old aristo- cratic families were thus aided to obtain all the situations which they desired in the army, navy, and foreign embassies ; and the marriage of the daugh- ters of these wealthy and noble houses to members of Congress, officers in the army, and other distin- 24 THE BLIGHT OF AVAR. guished citizens, spread tlie network of Virginia's influence over tlae entire land. Of these families, residing in the neighborhood of Alexandria, not one remained, except where ex- treme sickness or age prevented a removal. It was a strange spectacle, — those sumptuous and elegant mansions, with their rich furniture and paintings abandoned, and a few aged, helpless negroes and sick soldiers the only occupants. In a short time, all that was valuable in these houses disappeared ; the walls were blackened, the mirrors shattered, and everything interesting and beautiful destroyed. The fences were soon gone ; the orchards and gardens became encampments; and the once green fields were trodden into dustiness, the forests cut down, and everything we looked upon bore the blight of war. In many of these houses were found interesting family memorials, such as letters written in the last century, and were from fathers, sisters, and brothers, descriptive of travel, adventures, and marriages, and sometimes of narratives of conversations with dis- tinguished men : these letters were well "WTL'itten in the style of the old English authors in the days of Addison, Johnson, and Pope. I will be pardoned for alluding to these ; for they were found lying in open drawers and, in many instances, scattered upon the floor. One of them was an elegantly written epistle of a father to his son, then in a ISTorthern medical school, recalling the experiences of his own youth ; and, in words full of philosophy and piety, counsels him to " beware of the snares and tempta- tions which are the ruin of so many, and from which ABANDONED LETTERS. 2o they hope that repentance and reform can deliver them ; but the consequences are sure to come in sorrow, in confirmed habits of evil, in a thousand pains and ills, and, worst of all, in fear of an aveng- ing Providence, which neither infidelity nor occupa- tion can drive away from the mind." This letter is written in the bold round hand of the olden time. Another is the letter of a father to a young Dr. Powell, in answer to one requesting the hand of his daughter in marriage. The letter is written in a style so manly and noble that I felt acquainted with the writer, and regretted that one so calculated to adorn and bless had to die. Others of these letters conduct to the interior history of the family, depict- ing the anxieties, sorrows, and hopes of parents, — the unhappy events and confiicts of some years,, and the bereavements and death-scenes of others. These letters are interesting and instructive as family rec- ords, and teaching us the lesson that those who have gone before us had our trials, bufi'eted with the same troubles, loved and feared and joyed and hoped as we do now. One of these writers was a highly gifted woman, full of wit, and so keenly cutting the outline of the characters she met with, that you know them all, laugh with her at their follies, and enjoy their oddities. The women and the men that she describes stand out so living-like in her tableau, that we know them as though they had been our companions from childhood. In one of these letters she describes in a most amusing and felicitous man- ner the triumphal journey of an aunt through cer- tain towns of the Old Dominion, where she was 26 FAIRFAX SEMINARY. everywhere wined, feted, and toasted because the mother of sixteen children. Amongst the papers found in various places in this house, were many manuscript sermons of the Rev. Mr. Lee, breathing an ardent Christian spirit. Mr. Lee, as I learned, had been dead many years. His wife, a daughter of Mrs. Powell, soon followed her husband ; and thus, two of the good of the land were taken away from the evil to come. Mr. Lee had been during his life a professor in Fairfax The- ological Seminary. This institution, belonging to the Episcopal Church, had for its patrons and founders such men as Bishops Moore, Meade, and Johns, — men whose praise for piety, wisdom, and eloquence is in the mouths of thousands, JSTorth and South. In this Seminary were educated men ardently devoted to the cause of religion, who were broad and catholic in their views. Bishop Meade especially was unfriendly to slavery, and favored the great movement of 1825-30, looking to emanci- pation, when many distinguished men in Virginia committed themselves so earnestly to the cause of human freedom. At this time, Bishop Meade was behind no one in urging on the people of his State the duty and expediency of emancipation ; and he farther depicted in glowing and prophetic language the dangers of the future, if, from motives of ava- rice, interest, and ease, they deferred action. And yet, this conscientious and far-sighted man de- fended on his dying bed the secession of the Southern States, though he well knew that the root principle of the rebellion was the determination to uphold and perpetuate human slavery. Such is the BISHOPMEADE. 27 glory and tlie sliame of man ! To-day a prophet with, a speech which none can answer or resist, with an eye that reads the truth under any veil, and with a heart that welcomes all its self-denial and reproach ; but, to-morrow, a wretched trembler in the presence of enemies whom his wisdom and eloquence have collected, and with a darkened face and the heart of a child, fleeing from dangers which he had once welcomed ! 28 QEORGEMASON. CHAPTER II. Encampment on the Farm of George Mason, Esq. — Character of this Man — Appearance of the Country — General Desola- tion — The Discipline of the Camp — General Jameson — Mrs. Jameson — The Daily Life of the Army — Personal Influ- ence of Officers. After remaining in Camp Shields about tliree weeks, we were transferred to the command of Major-Gen eral Heintzleman, and removed with several regiments to the extreme left of the Army of the Potomac. The new encampment was on the farm of George Mason, Esq. This gentleman had for a long time held a prominent position in Vir- ginia, both as a lawyer and politician. His boast and glory was that the blood of the Stuarts flowed in his veins, being a descendant of Charles H. ; and certainly the general contour of his face strikingly reminded one of many of the portraits of that family ; and in the expression of cold, savage bru- tality, he fell short of none of his illustrious ances- tors. This man is one of the few of whom I have yet to learn of a single good act to shine like a gem in the general waste of a barren life. As a son, by his unnatural cruelty he brought upon himself the curse of his mother; as a magistrate, he was as remorseless as James H. ; as a master, there are no GEORGE MASON. 29 words in the English language to paint him. In his front grounds, near his house, now stand two large posts, with rings and chains in each. One he called "by the suggestive name of Tiger ; the other hy the equally expressive name of Lion. To these posts he had poor whites and free negroes whom, as a magis- trate, he condemned to be whipped for petty lar- cenies and trading with slaves, chained and whipped, — at the first execution giving them a taste of Lion, and dismissing the bleeding, cowering wretches with gleeful satisfaction, "hoping that they might be brought before him again, and the next time Tiger should tickle them with his soft and furry claw ! " This man, as a prominent lawyer and wealthy planter, had much to do in embittering the citizens of Virginia towards their countrymen of the i!^orth. He drew up in the Convention the celebrated bill for the expulsion of all I^orthern men from the State. He was known as an ardent advocate of all the docttines of Secession. When Ellsworth first broke into Alexandria, the tidings of the coming and near presence of the Yankees were soon borne along every highway; and to none brought more consternation than to the Hon. George Mason. He packed up in all haste his plate and valuables, gathered his slaves, ordered out his carriages, and, in the wildest haste, urged im- mediate flight to Richmond. His family, followed by a long retinue of servants, had already reached the avenue gate, when the procession was arrested by the appearance of our cavalry. The panic and scene that followed can be imagined. Mr. Mason most passionately complained of this indignity 3* 30 GEORGE MASON. heaped upon a citizen of Virginia. The ladies begged him to be quiet and submit, and wept and sobbed as though plunged into the very depths of misery. The negroes grinned with delight, enjoy- ing the dilemma and mortification of ^'Massa," but more "de comin' ob de wah." Mr. Mason was marched back, provided with comfortable quarters in his own house, and pro- tected by guard from all unreasonable intrusion. He was closely watched, and never permitted to leave his premises. !No clients came to his door; his functions as magistrate were suspended; his ne- groes were going and returning, riding his horses and selling his grain, without restraint. His fields were encampments ; his fences were consumed for fuel ; his forest lands were soon treeless ; and Mr. Mason could look over his wide farm and see every- where desolation. This was the winter of his dis- content. The very presence of our soldiers filled him with frenzy, and his rage was beyond disguise. But after a time his avarice mastered every other passion. In order to obtain damages for the ruin of his property, he took the oath of allegiance, brought in a bill of eighty thousand dollars against the Government, — charging twenty thousand dol- lars for the cord-wood we cut, and eighty dollars an acre for the injury done the land on which we en- camped, and ten thousand dollars for his fences. A commission audited his bills, but with what result I never heard. Such is one of the aristocrats who plunged the whole country into war, and brought ruin on Virginia. We now began to assume all the peculiarities of MILITARYDI3CIPLINE. 31 camp-life; and military discipline gradually cur- tailed personal liberty, but with a wisdom which 1 shall always admire. Colonel Hays (now General Hays) did not suddenly place on the necks of the soldiers the iron yoke of militaiy law. He grad- ually accustomed the men to submission ; went through the ranks and instructed them, — being more patient than one could have anticipated, from his fiery nature, with their slowness and errors. At first, he made the lash of discipline fall most heavily on the officers ; and little by little accustomed the men to the stern regime essential for the success of an army. He knew well that rigid military rule would be at first intolerably oppressive to those who had possessed liberty to the utmost license. He made no effort to whip and scourge the men into order, but left this to time and training. To this immediate extinguishment of the liberty of the citi- zen may be traced much of the insubordination and sickness of the army in the autumn of 1861. Many, stung to madness by the tyranny of those no way their superiors, and smarting under a discipline ca- pricious and unmerciful, became eager to throw themselves away in dissipation, and in acts of fool- hardiness ; others, contrasting their "grievous bond- age " with the enjoyment and quiet liberty of their homes, sunk into a state bitter and gloomy, caring little for their lives, became indifferent to their per- sons and duties, and welcomed wounds or death as an escape from a despotism they could not endure. These nameless injuries and insults suffered under the name of discipline, excited my pity for the Boldier more than even his sickness and wounds. 32 THEVOLUNTEER. In the ordinary adjustments of society there are many restraints upon men of selfish, resentful, and cruel natures ; but such a man in the army as an officer can gratify to the full the malignity of his heart. There is no man who more fully deserves the gratitude of his country than the volunteer sol- dier in our armies. He has left his home, sacrificed his interests, thrown himself out of employment, relinquished for years all his plans for tlie future, given up his personal liberty, and, at the call of his country, laid on her altar all that man holds most dear. All honor to our noble volunteer ! May the country they have helped to redeem for freedom, never forget them, and their children honor with the deepest love their memory ! It is due to General Hays to say that, while he was always active, — no effort fatiguing him, nor length of march wearying him, — he was patient with the men, and never permitted any one to be wronged, if he knew it. He was restless, impulsive, and fiery in temper, therefore sometimes erring in haste of judgment, but underneath all there was really a warm, generous nature. He had the singu- lar power of infusing his own spirit into his men, — making the weakest strong, and controlling the most turbulent by a glance of his eye, or wave of nis hand ; a man whom nature designed for the po- sition he occupied. Very soon after our removal to Camp Johnson our brigade was placed under the command of General C. Jameson. I have met no one in the army with soldierlike qualities suj)erior to this man. With a tall, noble person, as com- manding in look as Julius Caesar, in a group of a GENERAL JAMESON. 33 thousand officers the eye would have selected him as the finest model of manhood. At the commencement of the rebellion, he occu« pied a distinguished position at the bar in his native State — Maine. He was one of the first to ofier his life to his country. He came out as commander of the 3d Maine, and was in the thickest of the fight at Bull's Run. By his coolness and bravery on that fatal field, he won for himself the thanks of the army and the nation. As the commander of our brigade, he was impartial,— easily approached by officers and soldiers in the ranks. He had none of that hauteur and silent sternness assumed by many officers, who, dressed in a little brief authority, listen to complaints with impatience, and reply with insults. To him every soldier was still a man and a brother. As an officer, training and disciplining his brigade, few in the army were his superiors. He mastered with ease the most difficult and complicated movements, and showed himself equal to every emergency. If it had pleased Providence to spare him, there was no doubt a brilliant and successful future before him. From his earnest enthusiasm, generous kind- ness, and ardent devotion to the cause of his coun- try, one portion of the army derived much of that moral force which bore it so successfully through the Peninsular campaign. Mrs. Jameson accompa- nied her husband to his tent when he first came amongst us, and remained during the winter. Of this lady, as of one who will never emerge from the shadow of her widowhood, it may not be improper nor indelicate to speak, l^ot more than thirty years of age, her countenance had lost none of the 84 MRS. JAMESON. radiancy of her girlhood. With a person uncom- monly graceful, she had a face that shone on us like the star of the morning, — always hopeful and benignant. With refined and polished manners, delighting in good books, and in conversation natu- rally diffusing the precious odors collected in those gardens of spices, — lowly in her estimate of her- self, humble before God, meek and gentle in spirit, — she appeared to us as one clothed in the purity of the Madonna. She was all one could desire in a companion and friend of the heart. The presence of this excellent lady in our portion of the army was of a value never to be estimated. As she passed through the camp and hospitals in familiar visitations, as she attended our meetings for prayer and public worship, the officers and soldiers were reminded of their mothers, wives, sisters, and daugh- ters ; and home affections were revived. The very sight of a woman of spotless purity in the camp, is like the visit of an angel. We had at this time in our brigade the 99th Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel Lujeane; the 105th Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel McKnight; the 61st Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel Rippey; the 57th Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel C. Campbell ; the 87th E'ew York, com- manded by Colonel Dodge ; the 63d Pennsylvania, commanded by Colonel Hays. The usual camp duties were : the reveille beat at six o'clock in the morning, and in -^ve minutes after, the roll was called in the street of each company, and every sol- dier was obliged to report himself dressed and ready for duty. At seven o'clock breakfast was served CAMP-LIFE. 05 by tlie company cooks to eacTi mess. The break- fast was generally camp crackers, called ^'Hard Tack," coFee without milk, and a piece of pork or beef. If we were so fortunate as to have a sutler in camp, we added to our luxuries a little butter or molasses. Then commenced the daily cleaning and scouring of guns, which lasted until half-past eight o'clock, when the guard-mounting began. From forty to eighty men were daily in requisition for guarding camp, head-quarters, and commissary stores. The men required from each regiment were marched to brigade head-quarters, and then assigned their several posts of duty, and at nine o'clock returned, and resumed their appointed beat or watch. At nine o'clock, except when the weather was very bad, the various companies were marched to some neighboring field for drill and manoeuvre. They were sometimes commanded by a captain, but more frequently by a lieutenant, or orderly sergeant. This continued until twelve o'clock, when they re- turned to camp for dinner. At that meal we had crackers, bean-soup, boiled meat, and coffee, but rarely potatoes. At half-past one, the camp was again all bustle, — the men strapping on their over- coats and knapsacks, cleaning, washing, and black- ing, for regimental or brigade drill. At two o'clock they marched into the field, and continued to prac- tise all those movements and evolutions which ena- ble men to act in concert, and facilitate the use of the weapons of war. At four o'clock, in the winter, the men returned to camp, rested a few moments, and then again fell into line for dress parade. This always struck me as the most imposing of all our 36 THEDRUM-MAJOR. military ceremonials. The men were expected to wear their best clothing; the companies, without the delay of a moment, fell into the line from their own camp-street; and, when the men took their places, a perfect silence succeeded the noise of a thousand feet, and all assumed a solemn, statue-like rigidity. The band-corps standing on the extreme right of the regiment now strike up some military air ; and the drum-major stands in front of the band, looking for all the world like the buckram soldier in a mu- sical box. The impressiveness of this officer's ap- pearance is heightened by the great staff which he bears in his hand, with an enormous gilt head. Of what this staff and its big head are emblematic, I never could learn, — possibly designed to be an im- pressive symbol of the fact that all bands are likely to be afflicted with that fantastic disease, the "big head." As the Persian kings had their coffins borne before them when they entered the royal palace to be crowned, — reminding them that all earthly power and splendor ended in the grave, — so this huge- headed staff may be borne before the band, and, in the hand, be made to perform a part so fantastic and ridiculous, to remind them that they might become empty-headed, foolish, vain, and worthless. With a most solemn step, the major now advances, ele- vates his staff, shakes it at some power in the air, then lowers it, , as before some imaginary divinity, and, with many elevations, quivers, and shakes of the staff, wheels on the left and commences his ma- jestic march. It is always essential that this officer should look fierce, and bring down his heel on the DEESSPARADE. 37 ground with indignant force, as if calling upon the earth to pulsate to his tread. The band slowly marches along the entire line, and, when it reaches the extreme of the left wing, wheels, and with a much more rapid strain and quicker step returns to the head of the regiment. In front of the line, and about a hundred feet in advance of the centre, stands the colonel. The offi- cers, at a given command from the adjutant, advance in front of their companies ; then comes from out of each company the orderly sergeant, and all advance to the centre of the line, and give their evening report of officers or men absent without leave. After the return of the orderlies to their position at the head of their companies, the adjutant reads any orders which may have been received from the "War De- partment, from the general-in-chief of the division, or brigadier-general, or from the colonel, inflicting punishment for offences, or granting jDromotions. After this, the officers advance in line and greet the colonel with a military salute. If the commander has any instructions to give to the officers, they listen with the deepest respect ; and in a few mo- ments, with a mutual wave of the hand, the officers separate, the companies deploy into their camp- street, break ranks, the military work of the day is over ; and the deep silence of the last hour is suc- ceeded by the shouts, the songs, and laughter of those who have thrown off' the yoke and burden of another day. Poor fellows ! they little know what may be in wait for them. Very soon after we entered our new encampment, the men commenced building little cabins, large 4 88 THE DAILY REPORTS. enougli to contain four, eight, or twelve persons. In these they built chimneys, and in a little while were quite comfortable. Many of the enjoyments of civilization were borne into these cabins, i^early every soldier had his Bible, almost all a hymn-book ; many of them possessed libraries of several valuable volumes, and spent much of the night in reading. Others spent their nights around the camp-fire, and many were the stories told, — the wild legends of In- dian, Celtic, and German life, — fierce were the con- troversies in regard to politics, religious faith, and the virtues and vices of various races ; and there was always some one the butt of all, and mercilessly the subject of caricature. In the first organization of a regiment, the officers who have the severest labor are the captains, adju- tants, and orderlies. All the others may escape from constant watchfulness and exertion, but with these it is impossible ; for daily reports have to be made to the colonel and to brigade head-quarters, and censure and severe discipline follow any neg- lect of duty. These daily reports descend to the most minute details : the number of men in camp ; the number sick; the number sick in quarters; the sick in the hospitals ; the number in the com- pany present for duty; the number detailed for special service ; and where those absent from camp, whether on passes or furlough ; the rations drawn, etc. etc. Every few weeks these reports are ren- dered more voluminous, and incredibly difficult of preparation, by the clothing account, in which is charged to each soldier all the articles of dress he draws, — he being allowed clothing to the amount of ISOLATION OF MILITARY LIFE. 39 forty-two dollars a year ; and if he draws less will receive pay to that amount, and if more it will be deducted from his monthly pay. These reports must in all things conform to strict military rule, — which, like the law of the Modes and Persians, changeth not. There must be no mistakes, nothing to be corrected, or left to be understood. In a little time after the organization of a regi- ment, the isolation of the men composing it from the world becomes almost complete. His regiment constitutes the whole world to the man. It is but rarely he can obtain a pass to go without the lines ; and when he could visit some old friend or neighbor in another regiment, camp duties, repairing his cabin, washing his clothes, or mending his gar- ments, occupy his spare moments. Thus, the sol- dier in the army, like the man digging a well, grad- ually sinks out of the sight of men ; and his own vision of the world becomes every hour more nar- row. Regiments lying alongside of each other will not have the slightest intercourse, and in months will scarcely know each other's name or numbers ; and this is more especially the case if they are from different States. This is one of the results of service in the army most deeply to be deplored, — that the offi- cers and soldiers lose all American feeling, and have no ambition beyond their own regiment or, at most, corps. Against this, every wise com- mander of divisions and corps will watch, and take every measure in his power to induce intercourse and friendly sympathy between the officers repre- senting different sections of the country. The ten- 40 SELFISHNESS OF MILITARY LIFE. dency of military life is to generate an intense sell ishness. Away from home and all those blessed influences which soften and expand the heart in sympathy, encompassed with masculine grossness, all the nature hardens, and ''is set on fire." The emotions of tenderness and pity are suppressed, and the mind fully occupied with the plans of ambition, stung by insults, or inflamed by rivalry and hate. There is no spot in the wild chaos of the soul where the dove of charity can rest. I have wept bitter tears on the fields of battle, where "the gory, ghastly spectacle" was too terrible to be endured; I have felt sincere pity for those who for long months suiFered the pains of wounds and sickness on the hospital-beds; but nothing has occasioned me the same profound grief as witnessing the deg- radation of human nature in the army. What com- miseration can be deep enough for that soldier who knows well that he is only valuable in the eyes of his oflicers as a creature of muscle, with powers of endurance beyond those of the camel of the desert, as he is able to dig trenches, stand guard twenty- four hours without sleep or rest, — as he can bear without complaint storm and sunshine, winter's cold and summer's heat ; and, when no longer ca- pable of performing exhausting duties and marches, he is consigned to the living tomb of some hospital, with little thought and less pity, left far in the rear, cai'ried from one hospital to another, forgotten as the dead, and dropped out of the memory of his companions. Many officers, as they ascend in rank in the ser- INHUMANITY OF OFFICERS. 41 vice, divest tliemselves of all liuman feeling. With them, power hardens the heart and dries up all the springs of generous sympathy ; their faces become cold and stern, and their commands have in them a sting which degrades all who have to obey. Under such an officer, the soldier invariably be- comes a worse man, often losing all interest in the cause of his country. As an escape from a despotism which goads them to madness, some desert, others feign sick- ness, others sink into indifference, and endure with feigned apathy the extra duty of the camp to-day, the guard-house to-morrow, and the handcuffs the next day; and all this because they have become hopeless. They have been treated like brutes, and to brutality they sink. I know that this stern iron rule — into which not a single element of humanity is permitted to enter — is excused on the principle of necessity. "War has no time for charity," ''nor moments which she can give to anointings with the oil of kindness." To this, the reply is easy, l^o man is fit to command in the camp or field who does not con- stantly recognize the great principles of humanity. Men may be drilled into perfect, living machines ; but this is not courage. All true bravery springs from confidence in the right of that cause for which all home ties are sacrificed ; and in such an hour, every soldier is heroic in proportion to the trust and love which he bears towards his commander. 4* 42 McCLELLAN AND KEARNEY. In battle, the voice of the man whom the sol- dier loves, nerves his heart; and, rather than for- feit his esteem by flight, he will remain at his post and die. Much of the devotion of the army to General McClellan was owing to the fact that, as he rode through the ranks, he always looked upon the men kindly; and when he had to press a soldier out of his way, it was never with rudeness or insult. And this was the secret of Kearney's popularity in his division ; and among the thou- sand camp traditions of that singular and gifted man, there is not one of needless insult or cruelty to soldiers in the ranks. For them he had always the looks and language of cheer ; while for his officers he had often such words of biting, bitter scorn as only General Kearney could utter, — falling on them like angry flashes of lightning from a storm- cloud. And in all the army I know of no such devotion to a general as was exhibited by the men of Kearney's division. The soldiers who perform prodigies of valor are those who have formed strong personal attachments for some officer ; and they cannot waver under his eye, nor desert his person. My firm conviction, after nearly two years of observation, is that every officer ought to be dis- missed from the service, as worthless for such a position of power, who fails to secure the trust and love of his men. For it "will be found in the day of battle that such an officer will be left alone to perish ; and, regardless of his fate, every man will consult his o^vn safety. CHANGE OF OFFICERS. 43 I have known companies in regiments wliich, in tlie earlier Peninsular engagements, never stood firm; but subsequently, by change of officers, be- came the best and most unfaltering of heroes. ISTothing is lost by honoring in every man the great principles of his manhood. 44 DISTRIBUTION OF BOOKS. CHAPTER III. The Chaplain and his Duties — Distribution of Books — Religious Services — The Obstacles to Success — No Protection nor as- signed Duties — Treatment of the Chaplains by many OflB- cers — The Tendencies of Military Law. I HAD been tlie chaplain of the 12th regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers in the three months' ser- vice ; and, while in the service of that regiment, had extended my labors along the line of the I^orthern Central Railroad from York to Baltimore, — as the regiment was on guard-duty all its term of enlist- ment on that line. I re-entered the army as chaplain of the 63d Pennsylvania, and my services commenced about the 1st of September, 1862. We were then encamped near Washington. Many of the men were young, and fresh from their homes, and entered with a most hearty enthusiasm into everything that promised to interest them and give relief; for they were yearning for something to fill up the place in their hearts left vacant by being separated from all they had loved from childhood. My first care was to distribute Testaments and hymn-books among them. With these, 'some had been supplied before leaving home. The first week I appeared in camp I distributed to those who came OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH. 45 to my tent four hundred copies of the New Testa- ment, in four different languages, — English, Ger- man, French, and Italian,— and during the same week, six hundred small hymn-books, called the " Soldier's Hymn-book," — drawing my supplies from the American Tract Societies of I^ew York and Boston. From more than one hundred tents the evening hymn ascended to heaven, and those sacred songs were sung with an emotion hitherto unknown ; for they reminded them of home, and dear friends, and brought back afresh the most solemn and im- pressive scenes in their lives. My custom was to have two public services on the Sabbath. These were held in the open ground of the camp, and were well attended by men and officers. The attendance from the first was volun- tary. But I am now convinced, after the experi- ence of nearly two years, that every soldier ought to be compelled to attend the worship of God once on the Sabbath, whatever may be the religious faith of the chaplain. If a man of sense, he will preach on those religious truths and duties which find a response in all minds ; and, as much of the power of divine worship, after we reach the years of ma- turity, is in reviving the sacred impressions of the past, all may be benefited. But according to the present arrangement, the attendance being volun- tary, those who most need instruction and rebuke never come under the sound of the chaplain's voice. And if in any way he provokes the hostility of a number of ofiicers, he will find his occupation gone : a mere corporal's guard will attend his Sabbath ministrations, and in a thousand ways will he be 46 OPPOSITION TO THE CHAPLAIN. snubbed, and made to feel that Ms presence is a restraint, his life a sinecure, and, as an officer, a use- less appendage to the army. This opposition is easily provoked. Rebukes for drunkenness, gambling, profanity, or undue severity, will be certain to bring down on the offending chaplain a storm of rage. '' He has been teaching the men to despise their officers. He has been med- dling with things which he has no business to men- tion or to see. He does not preach the gospel. He is a small-minded busybody. If they had a chaplain who was a gentleman, they would always attend his services and encourage him ; but, under this man, there is danger of their becoming heathens and infi- dels." Thus, the Christian minister in the army, just in proportion as he is a man of true iDiety and worth, will provoke hostility, and his resignation be compelled. In many cases, some of the best of men have, under unprincipled and infidel officers, suf- fered months of martyrdom ; and nowhere can the chaplain look in hope for help, — the Government giving him, indeed, his commission, but not assign- ing his duties, nor compelling the other officers of his regiment to help and sustain him in his work. Their duties are prescribed, definite, and minute ; but for him, all is uncertainty. The surgeons must have their hour for sick-calls, and be aided by all the officers in finding the disabled of the regiment : their decision with regard to the sick must be re- spected. The men whom they order to the hospital, must be sent: those whom they command to re- main in their quarters, cannot be called out on duty. But the chaplain is powerless. He has no hour that THE ARMY CHAPLAINS. 4T IS Hs, but can be crowded out of all tbe Sabbaths of the year by parades, military necessities, etc. etc. There are many complaints in regard to the inef- ficiency of chaplains in the army. There may be much truth in this ; for many of the chaplains are men who have passed the prime of their lives, and have been worn out in the work of the ministry be- fore they entered the army. Beyond other men their habits of thought and action become fijced and permanent. They cannot conform with ease to the new circumstances in which they find themselves ; and, in some cases, their teachings are not appro- priate to the moral necessities of the men whom they address. But there are many most valuable chaplains in the army, — men of the highest intel- lectual culture and purest worth, who in talent would stand in the front rank of any profession, and fill the best pulpits in the country. It is most im- portant for the moral welfare of the army, that such men should not be driven from their places. But they deeply feel the indignity inflicted on them by degradation of rank and absence of protection. So far as the appointment of chaplains is con- cerned, it was evidently a concession made to the religious sentiment of the country, — one of those formless, shapeless things thrown in to fill up a vacuum. If there was any intention to secure to the army the highest benefit from religious and moral teaching, why leave the whole plan imper- fect and, like a roofless dwelling, valueless as a shelter, worthless as a home ? Since the chaplain's service is such an immense expense to the Govern- ment, why not make it efficient, — prescribing what 48 MILITARY LAW. tlie man shall do, compelling its performance, and the attendance of every man in the regiment on his teaching? Talk of the man effecting but little when he and his services can be tossed as an idle ball from hour to hour ! Complain of his want of power when he is left out shivering in the cold, when for every other man in the army there are rights and the protection of law ! Every man who, as an officer or soldier, has been in the service of the Government, knows that the purpose of the entire military system is to beget reverence for law. Law, law, is written on the pu- pil of the soldier's eye, graved on every bone of his body, and burned into every muscle. By law, the light of his tent is extinguished, and he sleeps ; by law, every step of his nightly beat is determined, and if he slumbers at his post, he dies. By law, he is awakened in the morning before the dawn, and brought forth from his tent ; it regulates every mor- sel of his food, the very hour it should be served to him, and during the entire day he hears no voice but its commands. Law, like an august monarch, reigns in the camp, and every instinctive desire of the soul, love, and friendship have to bow at its feet. Law prescribes every movement, invests him as a coat of mail, speaks to him lying down and talks to him rising up. Law winds the cord around his hat, ties his shoe-latchet, brushes the dust from his coat, and rubs the rust from his gun. Law lays its giant mailed hand on all his natural instincts. At one time it converts the living, moving man into a rigid statue of iron, and again hastens him, with the steady step of one to Avhom fear is imknown, into CHAPLAINS NEED PROTECTION. 49 the jaws of death. At one moment, by a wave of its hand, prostrating him in the dust, another mo- ment hurrying him with frantic fury into the face of his enemies. Law scowls at conscience, has con- tempt for remorse, hate for charity, and freezes the tear of pity on tlie cheek of him who sheds it. "Well may we adopt of military law the expressive lan- guage of prophecy : " It is strong and terrible exceed- ingly." E'o thing on earth is so effective in changing the entire nature of man. And when this is the in- tention, the actual influence of military discipline, is it wise to have a class of officers in the army with- out its protection and aid ? Are they not thrown into a position necessarily isolated and defenceless ? Unhesitatingly I say, rather abolish the entire chap- lain service than continue it as it is now. If the man has no rights, no assigned sphere, no prescribed duties, no protection from law, — but is occasionally permitted by a colonel, whom unreasoning Mars has placed at the head of his regiment, to hold a religious service, — then his life is a degradation, and his ministry a failure. For the very reason I have alluded to, because the chaplain has duties without rights, not one officer in twenty will attend any religious service. They soon catch the spirit of many of their superior officers, which is, — tolerate the chaplains, for we cannot without them secure enlistments ; but never forget they are a great expense and annoyance, therefore gently but surely get clear of them by never attending their ministrations ; by giving them nothing to do ; by hin- dering anything they attempt to accomplish; by never showing them any attention ; by leaving them 5 50 PERSECUTION OF CHAPLAINS. tentless, at the mercy of tlie other officers ; by making all tlie profanity, the drunkenness, the thieving, and gambling of the regiment the proof of the chaplain's being ''a dumb dog;" by giving him no transporta- tion for anything he may have gathered for the good of the men, — such as books, — or a tent for worship; spring on him as many reviews and parades as pos- sible ; keep the men a long time standing at Sunday morning inspection, — make this very important. If the chaplain should come around, show undisguis- edly your contempt before the men. Jeer and laugh when his back is turned ; and when you have pro- longed inspection until the heat of the day, go straight to your tent, and advise your men to do the same. Be certain that Sunday shall be the only day of the week when you will consult the ease and comfort of the soldier. Advise sleep and rest. Ad- journ the chaplain's service over until night, and then, by having a great deal going on, defer the ser- vices as late as possible, and then have tattoo beat during the first hymn or just after the announcement of the text. If after all this he still hangs on, de- grade him by making him postmaster and mail- boy. If he has no horse on which to carry the mail- bag, put him as a nurse into a hospital. If post- master, take the pound of flesh ; make him turn out with the mail in thunder-storms, in winter tempests ; make him swim rivers, struggle through sloughs deep enough to engulf armies. If he demurs at con- veying the mail on Sundays, let him know most distinctly that no officer has any business with a conscience in the ITnited States service ; but if he still refuses to go, take as a matter of compromise THE PICTURE NOT OVERDRAWN. 51 the most drunken, furious soldier in tlie camp, bor- row for him the ferocious spurs of the quartermas- ter, mount him on the chaplain's horse, send him with the mail-hag ; and if the animal returns wind- broken and blind of an eye, pity the horse, curse the chaplain, and reward the soldier. Let no man think that such wrongs as these were never perpetrated in the army. I could bring the most reliable witnesses to prove that this only faintly hints at the indignities that many chaplains have had to endure ; and though this has never been my experience, shall I be so unmanly as to be less indignant because it was the bitter experience of many of my brethren ? I have myself in other por- tions of the army been grossly insulted by men who afterwards apologized, because they thought the chaplains men of little spirit and less value. I know not that any good can be done by the publication of the infidelity and atheism of many of the officers of the army. But it gives me satisfac- tion to be now at liberty to say, that the men who were so rigid in exacting the performance of every military duty, habitually neglect the greatest of moral obligations. With all these discouragements and hindrances, my firm conviction is that the religious teacher who is firm, faithful, and constantly thoughtful of the great interests of which he is the representative, will find friends in every regiment, and his very enemies will make peace with him. At the same time I am more certain that there are great and radical defects in the present organi- 52 CHAPLAINS INVALUABLE. zatioii of the chaplain service, v^hicli loudly demand amendment and change. I fully believe that the chaplains are now performing a service for the country and army of inestimable value; and most sorry should I be to see them driven from their posts. I fear this is inevitable, unless they have a protection and authority not now given. THE LIBRARY. 53 CHAPTER lY. The Revival — Gloom and Discontent from Inaction — Tent for Public Worship — Dedication Scene — The Soldier alone with his Mother — The Formation of a Camp Church — Progress of the Revival — Letter of Mansfield Brown, Esq. For the eucouragement of those various benevo- lent societies which send books and papers to the army, I must record my testimony to their signal usefulness. While we were in the neighborhood of Washing- ton and Alexandria, I obtained weekly supplies of these, and aimed, every Saturday evening and Sab- bath morning, to visit all the tents in the regiment, and give to each soldier something for Sabbath reading. These were uniformly received thankfully, and read. I collected a library of three or four hundred vol- umes of historical, scientific, and biographical works. "With these I had three hundred numbers of maga- zines and reviews, such as Harpers', Littell's Living Age, the Eclectic. These found their way into every tent, and were read with manifest benefit. The men, as there were given to them this mental 5* 54 BENEFIT OP A LIBRARY. nutriment and amnsement, felt less temptation to waste time in card-playing, or to seek excitement in intoxication. They were more contented and peace- ful, and many made astonishing progress in general knowledge. During tlie days that were stormy and wet, they spent the entire time, except those on guard, in their tents; and, having books within their reach, the hours were neither dark nor mis- spent. Many assured me that they had gained more knowledge in the camp, during the winter of 18^2, than in all the years of their previous lives. One hundred and twenty volumes of very valu- able books, entirely new, were contributed by W. M. Shinn, Esq., of Pittsburg. Others were received from the Soldiers' Aid Association, in Pittsburg; others were from the United States Sanitary Com- mission ; others from the American Tract Societies of Boston and 'New York. These contributions se- cured a benefit never to be estimated in time. Very soon I found it essential to secure a tent for public worship. One was obtained from the Eev. M. Brown, of Georgetown. It was a tent which had been used for several years for camp-meeting pur- poses. This the strong winds of October blew to pieces. We were then for several weeks without any covering or shelter. Until the 1st of December we held our meetings in a large guard-house which had been reared ; but this we found very unsuitable and smoky. Most dark and gloomy at this hour was our pros- pect for doing good. There had set in a long season of storm : the mud was fabulously deep. The tents were frequently flooded. The men were becoming GLOOM AND DISCONTENT. 55 restless and desponding. A great change had oc- curred at home. All manufacturing interests had started anew, and wages were higher than ever before, while the families of the soldiers were suffering with sickness, poverty, and cold, ^ow they began to feel the corroding of the fetter. Their friends and neighbors who had remained at home were reaping a golden harvest. All these things angered the soldiers. Their faces became gloomy and their hearts sad. Their wives and children came to them at night in their dreams, weeping and haggard ; and by day they were haunted with a sorrow they could not shake off. Some sunk into languor and home-sickness, — which mocked all the usual remedies for disease, and sent them to the hospital, and in the end to the grave. It now became a matter of the highest moment to amuse the men, and bear their thoughts to those truths which have ever stilled the tumult of human passion. We made arrangements to start in the camp various classes for mutual instruction. Two in the Latin language, one in the study of German, one in arithmetic, and, most important of all, a de- bating societ}^ In order to carry successfully into execution all these plans for improvement, I wrote to my friends, Mansfield Brown and Joseph McKnight, of Pittsburg, for the means to purchase a tent for public worship, and such assemblies as would con- duce to the benefit of the regiment. Most gener- ously, and without the delay of an hour, they re- sponded, authorizing the purchase of a tent. The very day their letter was received, a large tent was 5t) TENT FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP. offered for sale in a neigliboring camp. TMs I immediately purcliased ; and before niglit had it pitched, a floor laid down, and a stove placed in it. Tims, everything was arranged for Sabbath wor- ship. This was about the 1st of January, 1862. "We met in the tent on Sabbath morning, a large con- gregation, some seated on camp-stools, some on rude benches, some on the floor, many standing at the entrance of the tent. The interest of the occa- sion was greatly increased by the presence of Mrs. General Hays, who was then on a visit to her hus- band, Mrs. General Jameson, Mrs. Maria Hayes, the excellent matron of our hospital, whom all loved as a mother, and Miss Gilliam, and Miss Herr, who, with a self-denial ever to be commended, had be- come nurses in our hospital. The season was one of the greatest interest and pleasure. It was the bursting of sunshine through the darkness that had hung over us like a pall. It gave hope of future beneflt and enjoyment; it reminded us of home ; it was almost a church. Many eyes swam in tears, and many voices choked with emotion as we sang, *' Jesus, lover of my soul," And again, " The Lord's my Shepherd, I '11 not want.'' The tent gave me the theme of that morning. I told them the history of its purchase, of the generous proffer of further aid, of books, etc. etc. ; and that these were but slight tokens of the deep interest felt in their welfare at home. I reminded them of the scenes attending their departure from home; of the SERVICES IN THE TENT. 57 prayers, tears, and vows of the last Sabbath they spent amongst their kindred; of the irrepressible anguish of their mothers, wives, children, and sis- ters when they parted with them ; of the promisee they had made. They had never kno^vn before how large a place they had filled in the hearts of those who loved them. I reminded them that at this very hour, as their parents and kindred were assembled in the houses of worship, they were in the hearts of all, and the holy song was broken by sobs, and faces of prayer w^ere wet with tears, because they were not there ; how essential they were to the hap- piness and life of many. I alluded to the hundreds of letters we were every week receiving, all breath- ing the same sentiment, exhorting and entreating them by all that was dear and sacred to follow the teachings of their ministers, and to revere the mem- ories of home ; and there was committed to them the most sacred of all trusts, — the earthly happiness of those to whom God had bound them. I asked them if they could be so cruel as to blast the hopes and embitter the life of one that loved them, and bend down their venerable parents with a weight that would crush them to the grave ; and if they thought there was any sacrifice . too great for them to make for those in whose hearts they were daily borne. I reminded them of the incurable anguish they would endure if they heard of their sins ; that they had fallen before temptation, had gone to dens of shame, had indulged in drunkenness, had become profane : to themselves these sins would bring only evil now, and in the end remorse. Yet they might find some relief from conscious degradation in the ex- 58 THE SOLDIER AND HIS MOTHER. cilemeiits of the camp, in the occupations and activ- ities of a soldier ; but what balm could be found to heal the hearts they had broken, and who could comfort those who mourned over their sons as fallen from virtue and piety ? I exhorted them, for the sake of all whose interests they represented, not to fall into sin, but to shun those evil ways which set on fire of hell the whole course of nature. And if they were determined to have nothing to do with re- ligion, and to dismiss from their hearts all fear of God, yet every sentiment of naanliness and every principle of honor demanded they should not dis- grace the name they bore. They were here the representatives of their fathers' houses ; and if they were churlish, quarrelsome, drunken, and profane, they not only degraded themselves, but dishonored their parents, — for the tree was judged by its fruits. I mentioned the case of a young soldier of a neigh- boring camp, who had fallen since he left home into many of the sins of the army, who, while playing cards, had become angered, and broken out into such blasphemy as confounded even his companions. "While still angry and disputing, some one handed him a letter just brought into camp. It was from his mother, and she a widow. After he had read the first few words the letter fell from his hands, and he burst into tears, exclaiming, "My mother! my mother ! If she knew of my sins, she would die of a broken heart ! " Then, lifting the letter again, he read a few more lines and sobbed out, "Yes, mother, I will, I will, I will read the Bible you gave me. I will try to pray : I will break ofi* my sins. Oh, my mother, I thank God you do not know how EVENING SERVICE. 59 low I liave sunk!" And with many passionate exclamations and tears he continued to read the words of warning and love. One by one his com- panions went out and left him alone with his mother. I entreated them to remember that the habits of sin, once contracted, were not easily thrown off. Some thought that sin was as easily cast out of the soul as a snow-flake was shaken from the hand. But this was against all human experience ; " for sooner shall the Ethiopian change his skin, and the leopard his spots, than those who have learned to do evil shall learn to do well," etc. And with many other like words I reasoned with them. The eft'ect of this address was most manifest. All listened with increasing interest ; many with tears. At night, I again preached on Luke xii. I urged to the confession of Christ, and spoke of the danger and temptation to which they would be exposed, — the perils of sickness and battle ; and they needed above ever;yi:hing to be made hopeful and strong by faith in an almighty, merciful, ever-present Friend. The impression of the morning was increased at night, and many retired to weep and pray. And on this day commenced one of the most remarkable seasons of religious solemnity I have ever seen. This interest continued unabated in power until we were broken by sickness and battle in the Peninsula. During these months, hundreds in the camp found the highest joy in religious meetings, and with ever new pleasure they came together to hear the gospel. It was a season never to be forgotten. Nearly all the munnuring and discontent of the camp passed 60 FOEMATIOK OF A CHURCH. away. The men were sober, quiet, and cheerful. Some who had been for years dissipated, abandoned the cup, and never, within my knowledge, afterwards fell. Others, who had ever been a burden to their families, now confessed their guilt, and sent home the humble acknowledgment and promise of amend- ment. Others laid open long-concealed sins, and sought instruction in regard to what they should do to make atonement for the wrong they had com- mitted. It was a time of great searchings of heart, and for many weeks my tent was crowded at all hours, when the men were ofi* duty, by those wishing to know the way of life. For the mutual protection and encouragement of those who desired to begin a new life, I resolved, after consultation with many officers and friends, to form a church in the regiment: "We had nearly one hundred men, officers and soldiers, who were mem- bers of various churches. For harmony, it was es- sential to form the church on principles common to all. I therefore drew up a form of doctrine and covenant to which all could assent, and which would bind us in unity, and bear with it all the sanctity of a sacred agreement. Before the communion I devoted every hour when the men were in camp in visiting from tent to tent, and talked with each one separately, or in the tent circle, in regard to their religious hopes and views. I endeavored as far as possible to ascertain their home history, that I might more perfectly identify myself with them in sympathy, and adapt my in- structions to their moral and spiritual state ; for I found hivari ably that there were some events, ecenes, SPIRITUAL INQUIRIES. 61 and instructions wliich permanently impressed the character for good or evil, as if the human mind was only now and then, and at long intervals, capable of being moved and changed. I endeavored to find what circumstance, what lesson, what deed had left behind an influence which survived all changes. I found in some cases the mind was embittered and permanently warped by some act of thoughtless or designed cruelty, long forgotten by the offender, but in the heart of him who had suffered, remaining like a viper's tooth, poisoning the very fountains of life. In others, some act of duplicity, some deed of hy- pocrisy, created distrust of all who bore the Christian name; and too blind and too unjust to see that a cause may be glorious, while he who represents it is base, they laid the crime of one at the door of all. In other cases, some lewd companion or vile book had debased in sensualism ; and the imagination had hung in all the chambers of the soul the pictures of evil. Again, there had been indulgence in childhood, and the suspension of parental authority at the season when it was most important, producing a restless aversion to all law. In fact, there were but few in whom the controlling elements were reason and conscience ; but the many were biased and led by their appetites, passions, and prejudices, by pride, vanity, and ambition ; and these emo- tions and vices impelled them in the path they had chosen, and rendered a change of character almost impossible. I made it my aim to gain the confi- dence of all, that I might successfully combat their errors, enlighten their understandings, and appeal to their consciences and better natures. This course 6 62 COMMUNION INCAMP. of visitation made me acquainted with tlie peculiari- ties and past liistoiy of each one, and enabled me, as I hope, to be more valuable at this time ; and my own constant study in regard to the things which most influenced the conduct of men, added to the plainness of my teachings at this period. Before the day of the communion we had a suc- cession of storms. The mud was beyond fable. The men were confined to their tents. This enabled me to more successfully visit them, — to sit down by their side without the fear of interruption. On Sabbath, February 9th, 1862, we organized the church, and received into its communion one hun- dred and seventy members, about sixty of whom for -the first time confessed Christ. At the commence- ment of the services I baptized six young soldiers. They kneeled before me, and I consecrated them to God for life and for death; the majority of them baptized, as it proved, for the dead. I then read the form of covenant and system of faith ; to which all gave their assent. I then read the names of those who wished to enter this fold in the mlderness, enumerating them by companies ; those who had made a profes- sion of religion at home, and came to us as members of Christian churches ; and those who now came out as the disciples of the Redeemer. Then followed the communion service. This was one of the most afifecting and impressive seasons of my life. The powers of the world to come rested on all minds. The shadow of the great events so soon to follow was creeping over us, giving earnest-' ness and an impressive solemnity to all hearts. P. COMMUNION IN CAMP. 63 was a day never to be forgotten, as a commencemeno of a new era in tlie life of many. It was a scene on which angels might look down with unmingied pleasure ; for here the weary found rest ; the bur- dened, the peace of forgiveness ; the broken in heart, beauty for ashes. Our position increased in a high degree the interest of the occasion. We were far from our churches and homes, yet we found here the sacred emblems of our religion ; and, look- ing into a future which we knew was full of danger, sickness, and death to many, we here girded our- selves for the conflict. It much resembled the solemn communions of Christians in the time of per- secution. Our friends who were present from a dis- tance, of whom there were several, rejoiced greatly that there was such a scene in the army. General Jameson was deeply moved, and afterwards said it was the most solemn and interesting scene of his life. Again on Sabbath, March 9th, the religious in- terest continuing, we held another communion. At this time twenty-eight were received into the church. Seven young men were baptized. The interest was even greater than at the former communion ; and it gives me now the greatest satisfaction to know that this season, which gave to many the highest enjoyment ever known on earth, where the cup of thanksgiving was mingled with the tears of gratitude, prepared for the sacrifice that was to follow. Many who were there never again partook of the -wine of promise until they drank it new in the kingdom of God, and sat down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb. My friend Dr. Crawford was never again at the Lord's table J but was then prepared, by the peace like a 64 LETTER OP MANSFIELD BROWN. river, for entering upon the blessed rest. And many others found their beds softened in sickness by the remembrance of the consecration and joy of those sacred seasons. Others were made tranquil and even triumphant in death, by the vision of the Saviour whom they had first met in the breaking of bread in the camp. Mansfield Brown, Esq., of Pittsburg, was present at the last communion. His impression and report of the scene deserves a place in the record of mercy, and will be read, by every one into whose hands this book falls, with pleasure and profit : "Dr. McKinney : — Dear Sir : — I know it will give you pleasure to hear how I spent the Sabbath, March 9th, in the 63d regiment. Colonel Alexander Hays, near Fort Lyon. "As you are well aware, there has been for some time quite a revival of religion going on. A most interesting, soul-stirring state of things exists among them. God is certainly largely blessing them. Never did I see men so deeply in earnest. "In the morning, at eleven o'clock. Dr. Marks preached in the tent-church to as many as filled the two tents. At the close he said that as it was likely the regiment would move soon, he would hold a communion that night, and invited any persons wishing to join, to meet him. "At two p. M. we held a most solemn and touching prayer-meeting. The prayers of the soldiers were very ardent and to the purpose. I conversed with many dear young men in their tents and alone, who readily acknowledged their need of salvation. LETTER OF MANSFIELD BROWN. 65 "At night, the tents were crowded to excess ; and, as the evening was pleasant, the ends of the tents were opened and an eager crowd pressed around. A small, rude table was used ; common bread, wine made of grape-jelly and water, and two glasses, were placed in the centre. Our tents were lighted by three candles, swung from the centre. Familiar words were well sung. A few introductory remarks and a prayer, then eight stalwart soldiers kneeled around the table and were baptized ; the bread and wine were then passed to communicants ; even out- side the tents all eager to obey the command, ' This do in remembrance of me.' Everybody was weep- ing. Twenty-nine joined on profession, — the whole membership now being one hundred and eighty- eight. We had sweet singing while Elder Danks (captain) and myself distributed the sacramental ele- ments. Surely, God was there. And it was well calculated to remind us of that dark night in which it was instituted. It was a most solemn, impressive scene, and one never to be forgotten. "We closed it by all audibly uniting in saying the Lord's Prayer, and parted, — never all to meet until we meet at the marriage-feast in heaven. " The soldiers are obliged to put out lights and re- tire at tap of the drum ; but a few of us spent an hour yet in devotion, singing, and conversation in Captain Danks's tent. It was a good meeting. To witness the men's deep emotion at any reference to their families in prayer, and then to hear them say, ' We can die without fear and leave the loved ones with God, content, so our glorious flag is sustained,' gave confidence in the success of our country's cause. 6* 66 LETTEK OF MANSFIELD BROWN. " I stepped into a tent in wliicb. were five young men, SablDatli morning. Three were reading their Testaments ; had a pointed conversation with them ; found they had all been well trained at home ; all knew what was their duty ; three of them joined the glorious army to-night. Another fine, well-trained young stranger had been halting and hesitating, though greatly exercised for some time ; four of his mess had joined, the fifth having died suddenly. He said every letter from hi^ good father and mother urged and entreated him to seek religion, but he doubted his fitness. He was that night baptized and com- muned, and afterwards told Dr. Marks how happy and thankful he felt. His load was all gone. He intends to be a preacher. "On Monday morning, among the first persons I saw was a stalwart man coming out of the Doctor's cabin, weeping. He grasped my hand and said he was so happy. The Doctor has written to me since that the good work is still increasing. May it go on until every dear soldier in our army shall become a good soldier of the cross ! " THE DESOLATION OF WAR. 67 CHAPTER Y. Scenes in the Neighborhood of Mount Vernon — The Quakers — Their Loyalty — The Washington Family, and Traditions of General Washington — The Lewis Estate — Our Pickets in that Neighborhood — The Old Church of Washington at Pohick — The various Great Estates in that Neighborhood — A Woman's Revenge. In this neighborhood the most of the farms were in a poor state of cultivation. The land was ex- hausted, and the appearance of the fields anything but pleasant to an agriculturist. There were many beautiful modern houses, but these evidently did not represent the generosity of nature, but were the fruits of wealth, gained from some other source than the soil. But at this time these beautiful houses were green spots in a desert. All around there was desolation. ' The fences had been burnt for camp- fires, the outhouses torn down for tents, the horses and mules of the army roamed without limit over all their lands, the encampments were in the or- chards, meadows, and gardens. But few families re- mained to be witnesses of their ruin. At the ap- proach of our troops they had fled. The country back of Alexandria for many miles has all the aspects of a blighted land. The original 68 MOUNT VERNON. forests have been cut down, and on tlie old ex- hausted fields have sprung up pines, thickets of dwarf oaks, thorn trees, and briars ; and thus the very forests add to the unsightliness of the scene. There is enough diversity in the landscape to make a most beautiful country; but in a land that is weary of man, and where all the furrows of the field complain of him, every traveller is compelled to sympathize ^vith nature. Momit Yernon is about nine miles from Alexan- dria, down the Potomac. The main road, that has been used for two hundred years, winds over the hills near Fort Lyon, passes the estate of George Mason, Esq., and again descends from the height into the valley of the Accotink. The first four miles of this way carries the pilgrim for Mount Yernon over desolated fields, through low and shaggy woods ; but at length the road reaches the summit of the hills embosoming the Mount Yernon estate, and a vision of rare beauty bursts on the eye. We looked down on green fields and meadows, white farm-houses nestling in orchards and vines, barns and outhouses which betokened abundance and wealth, good roads, and long lines of evergreens overshadowing them, like faithful sentinels guard- ing the ways. By patient industry these lands have been redeemed, and Mount Yernon made again at- tractive, — as if when those who bore the venerated name of Washington were no longer influenced by his example and virtues, others were sent to secure from abandonment and restore to primitive fertility an estate sacred from the name and ashes of the Father of his Countr}^ Of the Washington family PURCHASE OF MOUNT VERNON. 69 no descendants now remain on the Mount Yernon estate, or in the neighborhood. The estate of John A.Washington is a part of the original Mount Yernon property. To my surprise, I found this man quite popular with his Quaker neighbors. To them he was the kind and generous friend, and to his negroes an easy and gentle master. But he was improvident and intemperate, and every year found him in deeper indebtedness and nearer to bankruptcy. At length the sale of a portion of the estate be- came a necessity. Then opened that degrading spectacle of one who bore the most honored of names, appearing before his country as willing to prostitute to infamy the spot sacred to mankind, as containing the house and tomb of Washington. The country was saved from this last degradation by the timely intervention of certain patriotic ladies, who came forward and purchased the estate, when John A. Washington was negotiating its sale to blacklegs and gamblers, who proposed to fit up the grounds as a watering-place, for the amusement of parties of pleasure. These enterprising gentlemen had extensive plans for public entertainment, and proposed to inaugurate every form of dissipation possible within the limits of decency ; and soon the whole country would have been shocked by hearing that there were masquerade balls in the room where Washing- ton died, and the orgies of drunkenness around his tomb. To prevent this the ladies interposed, and paid Mr. Washington one thousand dollars per acre for two hundred and fifty acres. This included the fields around the house, — the orchards planted and 70 RELICS AT MOUNT VERNON. the gardens laid out by Washington. Certain per- sons now hold the estate in trust for those ladies. Some of them reside on the premises ; and, under their eye, the house is being reconstructed, the walks renewed, the walls rebuilt, and the fences re- paired. They design to restore the grounds to the state in which Washington left them ; and with the most commendable self-denial they remain in the old mansion, and, almost in the solitude of nuns, live to accomplish their promises to the public. 'Not much remains to remind one of the great and good man who spent the last years of his life here, and from this dwelling passed from the shadows of earth to the visions of another world. There are only one or two portraits, a few venerable chairs, some pic- tures of hunting-scenes, one of the battle of Bunker's Hill, but not one of any of the scenes in which Wash- ington was the principal actor. In this, as in every- thing else, he displayed his good taste and the mod- esty of true greatness. On the walls in the great hall of the dwelling hangs the key of the Bastile, sent from France to Washington, as one of the em- blems of European despotism laid at the feet of the great Liberator of the ISTew World. One or two autograph letters of Washington re- main, written in the full round hand, without blot or erasure, which distinguishes all the productions of his pen. One of these was a letter of sympathy sent to the Rev. Mr. Fairfax, then in Alexandria, on his way to England in pursuit of health ; and is full of kindly reminiscences, and assures the sufferer that nothing but the inclemency of the weather pre- vented Mrs. Washington and himself paying him THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 71 their respects before his departure. Tliis letter was written but a few months before his death. The tliousand traditions of the neighborhood only confirmed the impression I had before received, that the life of Washington at Mount Vernon was most simple and unostentatious. His house was open to all his neighbors, and he was the friend and coun- sellor of the poorest. His love of order was one of his most marked characteristics. Every appointment must be ful- filled at the moment. Settlements must be made on the very day the account or note fell due. On one part of his estate, four miles from Mount Vernon, are now found the ruins of the old mill to which Washington rode on Thursday, the 12th of December, 1799, to settle with the miller, and to re- ceive his accounts for the year. He remained until in the afternoon, and rode home in a violent snow- storm, and never recovered from cold taken on that day. On the following Saturday night, he died of croup or diptheria. His end was characterized by the remarkable self- possession which so signally distinguished his entire career. After the fatal symptoms were manifest on Saturday, he found great difficulty in speaking ; but, as well as he could, he gave instructions to his secre- tary to "record his letters and papers, to arrange his accounts, and settle his books." To his physician he said: "I feel myself going. You had better not take any more trouble about me, but let me go off quietly. I cannot last long." And again: "Doctor, I die hard ; but I am not afraid to go. I believed from the first I should not survive it. My breath 72 SURROUNDINaS OF MOUNT VERNON. cannot last long." And again: "I should have been glad, had it pleased God, to die a little easier; but I doubt not it is for my good." And just before he died he closed his eyes with his own hands, folded his arms on his breast, breathing out, "Father of mercies, take me to thyself." And the last words he ever uttered were, '' 'T is well ! " Thus died one of those noble men for whose lives and virtues we feel thankful to heaven ; for they belong, not to one country, but to the human race. Showing us the attainments of which man is capable, they shine in our heavens like the star of the morning, heralds of that better day when justice and truth, piety and temperance, shall ennoble and beautify all the great of every clime. All the walks and paths about Mount Vernon were trodden as holy ground ; for along the same paths had been impressed the footsteps of Washing- ton. These trees had been planted by his hands ; on these flagstones under the portico had he often walked, and looked down on the Potomac; and there, under our eye, reared the obelisk which marks the spot where he lies until we shall all awake from the dust of the earth. Until then, his grave shall be a shrine to which his countrymen, and the good of all lands, will come, and learn to be patient in hope, and self-sacrificing for the future. During my walks about Mount Vernon, I met with an old slave of the Washington family, — Joe Carter. He now lives about five miles from the Mansion-house, in a cabin of his own. Old Joe is a negro of character, and bears a greater dignity be- cause a member of the most illustrious family This JOE CARTER. 73 mau told nie that lie was three months old when General Washington died ; and that the general, some time before his death, emancipated all his negroes, three hundred and sixty in number, but that nearly all of them remained and worked on the estate ; that the general was always good to his slaves, and would not permit them to be beaten or ill used. He also said that Mrs. Washington had three hun- dred slaves, and the general had proposed to purchase these from his wife and set them free. She hesitated for some time what to do, but at length decided not to accept the offer; for the paying for them would too seriously embarrass the estate, and she had too many 23oor kinsmen to permit her to emancipate all her colored people. Joe bears a high reputation as a man of truth and piety. He is industrious, and lives in a cabin on his own ten acres. "AVliat are you doing, Joe," said I, ^'for another life ? Are you a Christian ? ' ' '' Oh yes, massa. Dis nigger 'bleve in de Lord Jesus. Religion de mostest beautiful ting in dis world. Ole Joe he do drink, cuss, and swear awful. De Lord he make Joe a temp'rance man, and bress de Good Massa, he radder die dan cuss. Yes, massa, religion is de hopenhand to dis ole nigger." There lives in the Quaker neighborhood a num- ber of families the descendants of the Washington slaves ; and from these may no doubt be gathered many most interesting traditions of the distinguished families and persons who have lived in this region. The Mount Vernon estate, as left by General 7 74 THE LEWIS ESTATE. Wasliington, was six thousand acres. This was, by his last testament, left to members of the Washing- ton family, and to Major Lewis, who married Miss Custis. The honse and property of the Lewis family were sold twenty years ago to John Mason, Esq., who now resides in the honse reared by Major Lewis in 1804. The house was designed by General Wash- ington, and the grounds laid out as directed by him. This vast baronial dwelling stands on an elevation of three hundred feet above the Potomac, and com- mands a magnificent view of the hills of Maryland, the isles of the river, the house of Mount Vernon, and the hills around the valley of the Accotink. On this spectacle the eye never wearies of gazing. This portion of the estate has suifered, like the rest of it, from the extravagance and luxury of the proprie- tors, but more from their absence for a considerable portion of the year from their homes. iTearly all these old Virginia families were pensioners on the Government, and lived during the winter in Wash- ington ; hence, their estates near the capital were neglected, the great houses of their fathers sunk into ruinous heaps, and their fields became barren. Mr. Mason came from 'New Hampshire. Affcer a most adventurous life as a sailor, merchant, and captain of a trading vessel, he at length settled in Virsrinia as the owner of the Lewis estate. He was undoubtedly one of the most remarkable men whom I have met. Many of the great rooms in the Lewis House are now unoccupied, and one wing is in ruins. The rooms occupied by the family are great cham- bers; and as in ancient halls the sound of your footsteps awakened echoes which die away in the THE QUAKEPw SETTLEMENT. 75 distance, and arouse the imagination as in a haunted scene, so here you are so far removed from all the living that you commune with the dead. There is in this neighborhood one of the most interesting communities in Virginia. Some thirty Quaker families from Pennsylvania and I*^ew Jersey came to this State many years since, and purchased a large poiiion of the Mount Vernon estate; and now form a society of very intelligent, loyal, Chris- tian people. In their hands, the poor, worn-out fields have become again fertile, and every year adds to the prosperity of this peaceful neighboroood. ^Hiile in every direction around war has ravaged the land, and three-fourths of the farms are deserted and waste, here everything is as quiet, and the fami- lies as unmolested, as in time of peace. These men of peace are known to be hostile to the institution of slavery ; but by their uniform hon- esty and kindness they won the esteem of their dis- loyal neighbors ; and Avhen they fled before our troops, they left in the care of the Friends many things of value. When the Rebel pickets came through their neighborhood, and occasional cavalry scouting parties, they had instructions not to molest the Quaker families ; and when our lines extended beyond them, our soldiers and officers experienced the greatest kindness from this entire people, and we formed friendships which will last as long as life. It is very evident that this is destined to be one of the greenest spots in Virginia; for the economy, industry, and honesty of this people will secure to them wealth. Possessed of fields most amiable and 76 DEBATABLE GROUND. generous, there can be no limit to their prosperity ; and another generation will be distinguished by all those arts and refinements which adorn the highly educated and virtuous. I have spoken of our picket-lines. These are the guards placed from three to ten miles in advance of our camp. The encampments of the enemy on our left wing were beyond the Occoquan, — a river that flows into the Potomac about three miles below Mount Yernon. About six miles from its mouth the Richmond road from Alexandi^ia crossed it at the village of Occoquan. The enemy's lines extended to this river, and Wigfall, with a force of thirty thousand, held the ferries, fords, and heights. Ac- cotink Creek flows into the Potomac a short distance above Occoquan Bay ; and the distance from one stream to the other in front of us was about three miles. Our lines extended to the Accotink, and be- tween these streams was the debatable ground run over by the scouts of both armies ; and occasion- ally parties of reconnoissance would from both sides collect forage, and surround houses supposed to har- bor spies and enemies. These parties would sometimes meet, and then there was one of those skirmishes which gave the men a greater taste for battle. The enemy, from their perfect acquaintance with the country and knowledge of the inhabitants, had the advantage. They could almost always in some way receive warn- ing of our advance, and would have time to flee, or lay an ambuscade. In many of these struggles we lost men, who were killed or taken prisoners ; but the loss of the enemy was fully equal to ours. The STATIONING PICKETS. 77 wretched families living in this field of contest were in the most pitiable condition ; for they were under the protection of neither army, and were robbed and insulted by both. Their fields were stripped, their corn and wheat seized, their cattle and horses stolen, and, not permitted to cross within the lines of either army, they were reduced to circumstances of the deepest distress and want. From many of the houses thus occupied the men were gone, generally in the Confederate army; and when our men came to look into these dwellings, they were uniformly touched with pity. The entire family were sufiering from cold, sickness, and nakedness : the women in tears, and the children wan with huno-er. The regiments composing a brigade were sent out on this picket-service about once in three weeks. They remained on the outposts about three days, and then were relieved, and returned to camp. On this line our picket-posts were about one hundred yards apart. At one of these posts were placed ioLve or six men. At the posts they constructed a booth of boughs and trunks of trees. Within this they re- tired in stormy weather, and slept when ofi* guard. The men were placed in line generally along a road or path, and stood about twenty paces apart. There was a signal and countersign, and any one advancing to a picket was halted and asked to give the signal ; when this was given, he was ordered to advance to the point of the bayonet and give the countersign. If neither of these could be given, he was placed under arrest, and sent under guard to the head- quarters of the brigade general, and he, if not satis- 78 THE PICKET-LINE. fied, sent the prisoner to the head-quarters of the major-gen eraL The approach to a picket-line is attended with great danger ; for the men are looking for an enemy, and more disposed to shoot than wait. If any one approached the picket at night, he was very liable to be shot; for the picket may halt the man ap- proaching, or not, as he pleases. It requires the utmost circumspection on the part of the officers, especially if fresh troops are on line, in approaching the pickets. I was once passing down the picket-line near Pohick Church, and, not having received the signal, I approached one picket-post. I heard the command, '' Halt! " but I supposed this was not for me. The next moment, as I advanced, ^ I heard the picket ask his officer, '' Shall I lire? " The presence of the officer saved my life. I had passed a great number of pickets, but was halted nowhere before. We lost one of our men in this way. There was anight alarm, — several guns, — and young Gardiner, hurrying up the line to inform his officer of strange appearances at his post, w^as challenged by a picket, and in his haste threw up Ms gun, as if about to rush on his challenger. The picket fired, and poor Gardiner lived but half an hou.r. He was from one of the German counties of Pennsylvania. The moment's hesitation in using the English language probably caused his death. The danger of the picket-line suggested the fol- lowing beautiful gem, of the authorship of which I am uncertain : THE PICKET-GUARD. 19 THE PICKET-GUARD. " ' All quiet along the Potomac/ they say, * Except now and then a stray picket Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro By a rifleman hid in the thicket. ^Tis nothing — a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle ; Not an officer lost — only one of the men Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.' ** All quiet along the Potomac to-night. Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ; Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, Or the light of the watch-fire gleaming. A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping, While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, Keep guard — for the army is sleeping. " There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread As he tramps from the rock to the fountain ; And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed. Far away in the cot on the mountain. His musket falls slack — his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender. As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep — For their mother — may Heaven defend her I "The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, That night when the love yet unspoken Leaped up to his lips, when love-murmured vows Were pledged to be ever unbroken. Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes. He dashes off tears that are welling, And gathers his gun closer up to its place, As if to keep down the heart-swelling. 80 JOHN UNDERWOOD. " He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree, The footstep is lagging and weary ; Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, Toward the shade of the forest so dreary. Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves, Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ? It looked like a rifle — ' Ha ! Mary, good-bye ! ' And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing. *'A11 quiet along the Potomac to-night, No sound save the rush of the river; While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead — The picket's ofi" duty forever ! " In this section of Virginia there were but few fami- lies of true loyalty ; but there were memorable ex- ceptions. One was John Underwood, a prominent citizen, born and reared a slaveholder ; but having visited the Free States, he returned to Virginia con- vinced that the great curse of his native State was slavery. In conversation he stated in full his convic- tions to his fellow-townsmen, and uttered sentiments which sounded in their ears as insurrectionary and fa- natical. He was at this time one of the judges of the county court. They resolved to hurl him from the bench, and the judges came to the court-room armed, with the intention of shooting him if he advanced to his usual seat. But Mr. Underwood was there before them, took his seat, and laid his loaded and cocked revolver on the table before him. As the other judges advanced, he commanded them not to put one foot on the platform where he sat, or they should die. They yielded, sat at his feet, and he administ-ered the court ; and when the business was over, left the room, where a hundred faces were WILLIAMSON, THE GUIDE. 81 black with anger and murder, without the quiver of a muscle. He farther braved the fury of the slaveholders and mob who followed them by erecting a Lincoln pole in the public square of Occoquan. He was now hunted as an incendiary and enemy to his State, fined by the court, and threatened with imprison- ment and death. At the commencement of the rebellion, he, with all those who had co-operated with him, was com- pelled to seek safety with our army. After filling for months some post about Washington, when our troops took possession of all the country this side of the Rappahannock, Mr. Underwood went down to see his widowed mother ; and, in a Rebel raid, was seized and hurried away to Richmond, where, if alive, he now lies in one of their prisons. There was another man, named Williamson, who was valuable to us as a scout and guide. He was a shrewd, cunning man, who had been injured by some of the wealthy whites ; and revenge was, I feared, a stronger motive with him than a desire to benefit his country. We had heard through Wil- liamson that there was a large party of Rebels who crossed the Occoquan nearly every morning, and took position on a ridge of hills in front of us. Here they remained during the day in observation. A plan was laid for their capture. To efiect this. Colonel Hays selected about fifty men from different com- panies, who were commanded by Lieutenant-colonel Morgan. The men left our picket-line about three o'clock in the morning, and passed through dark pine forests, beyond a farm-house, on the way. 82 THE AMBUSCADE, When they had gone about half a mile from this house, they came to the road which the enemy usually took from Occoquan. But they, for some unexplained reason, came up that morning by an- other way, and passed by our men almost within the touch of their hands ; but coming along a new path, there was felt some uncertainty in regard to who this strange company were. The impression of some of our officers was, that it was a body of our own men out on scouting duty. The enemy marched to the house, learned of our passing, and returned and laid an ambuscade for us. After remaining here nearly an hour, the colonel commanded the men to rise and march back to camp. They started to return, and had advanced more than one-fourth of a mile when the click of guns in the heavy forest arrested the four or ^nq in advance. They drew their pistols and peered into the darkness. Instantly the enemy fired, and Cap- tain Chapman, Lieutenant Lisle, and Moore, private in Company G, fell. ' Captain Chapman and Lieu- tenant Lisle died in a few moments, and Moore in less than an hour. Our men returned the fire and rushed into the forest, and drove the foe before them. The enemy lost by our fire three men, and in this number, it was said, their celebrated leader, Burke, who had distinguished himself as a picket murderer. It was all over in ^nq^ minutes, the enemy beyond pursuit, and our men in mute horror around the dead bodies of their officers. Captain Chapman was one of the most promising officers in the army. Of a courage that rendered him incapable of fear, THEKILLED. 83 of great clearness and penetration of mind, and rapid- ity of decision, of most commanding personal appear- ance, with the eye of an eagle, he was the man to lead in daring exploits, and to become in the highest degree the idol of the soldiery. He was descended from a family in the north of L-eland, and his ances- tors had been from time immemorial engaged in the military service of Great Britain ; and, if I am not mistaken, he had at the time of his death two uncles high in rank in the East Indian Army. His fall — when there was opening before him so illnstrious a career, and in circumstances where no brave man would desire to die — gave to all his friends the deepest sorrow. Lieutenant Lisle was our quarter- master, and therefore a volunteer in this skirmish. He was a valuable officer, and deeply regretted by many in the army and at home. The regiment returned from picket-duty on the day that the officers were killed. The bodies were brought in, however, before the regiment reached camp. It was a spectacle that caused all hearts to cease beating. The wagon containing the dead drove to the tent of Captain Ryan ; then there was the pause of several moments in silent awe, as if each one dreaded the terrible disclosure. At length, one more adventurous than the others threw open to our gaze the marblelike faces of the dead. There had passed before each that great mystery which gives a solemn grandeur to every human brow. Most tenderly, as if sensitive to every touch, were they borne from the wagon to the tent, and laid in fitting positions. It was hard to convince ourselves that this was 84 POHICKCHURCH. not a frightful dream. Was it possible that those who an hour before were the most active, whose voices were heard in command, who walked by our side full of plans for years to come, were now mo- tionless and silent forever, and that there had fallen between them and us a veil which no mortal can lift and live ? This sad event threw a gloom over the regiment for months ; and at every dress parade we looked in vain for the commanding figure of Captain Chap- man, and we were never called to a severe engage- ment without regretting that he was not there. Yet he is only one of the many thousands of the noble and the brave whom ruthless war has taken from our side. I have spoken of Pohick Church as one of the most remarkable relics of the days of Washington. This church stands to the left of the Eichmond road, and twelve miles west of Alexandria. The situation is beautiful, on the green hill above Pohick creek. It was built by various distinguished fami- lies who formerly lived in this neighborhood, such as the Lees, the Masons, McCartys, Washingtons, Fairfaxes, and Lewises. Of these families but few survive ; and these feeble remnants, like the frag- ments of a noble vessel broken on the rocks, have in them little to remind us of the greatness of the past. Our troops took possession of this church, and the walls were blackened with a thousand names. The seats were cut to pieces, and borne away as memorials of the church of Washington. The old square pews remained at this time, and the pew of Washington, nearly untouched, because POHICK CHURCH. 85 probably not known as such by the soldiers. I ap- pend here an extract from Bishop Meade : "My next visit was to Pohick Church, in the vi- cinity of Mount Vernon, the seat of General Wash- in^on. I designed to pei'form service there on Saturday as well as Sunday; but, through some mistake, no notice was given for the former day. The weather, indeed, was such as to prevent the assemblage of any but those who prize such occa- sions so much as to be deterred only by very strong considerations. It was still raining w^hen I ap- proached the house, and found no one there. The wide-opened doors invited me to enter, as they do invite, day and night, through the year, not only the passing traveller, but every beast of the field and fowl of the air. These latter, however, seemed to have reverenced the house of God, since few marks of their pollution are to be seen throughout it. The interior of the house, having been well built, is still good. The chancel, communion-table, tables of the law, etc., are still there, and in good order. The roof only is decayed ; and, at the time I was there, the rain was dropping on these sacred places, and on other parts of the house. On the doors of the pews, in gilt letters, are still to be seen the names of the principal families which once oc- cupied them. How could I, while for an hour trav- ersing these long aisles, — entering the sacred chan- cel, ascending the lofty pulpit, — forbear to ask: And is this the house of God which was built by the Washingtons, the Masons, the McCartys, the Grahams, the Lewises, the Fairfaxes, — the house in which they used to worship the God of our fathers, 8 86' THE FAIRFAX ESTATE. according to tlie venerable forms of the Episcopal Church, and some of whose names are yet to be found on those deserted pews ? Is this also destined to moulder piecemeal away, or, when some signal is given, to become the prey of spoilers, and to be car- ried hither and thither, and applied to every pur- pose under heaven? " Has not this language all the impressiveness of prophecy ? Was there not to many minds in Vir- ginia a foreshadoAving of the doom near at hand? Did not many see dimly the hand moving on the wall? This struck me as more remarkable, for similar expressions fell from the lips of Jeiferson and Madison. In this same neighborhood, about three miles from Mount Yernon, on the heights over the Potomac, are found the broken walls of the house of Lord Fairfax. It is now a heap of rubbish, and large trees are growing out of the ruins. One can still trace the outline of the garden walls, and here and there a rose-bush and lily live and bloom amid the crumbling timbers and fallen bricks. The tombstone of one of the Lady Fairfaxes now lies broken in the forest overlooking the Potomac. On this she is described as " very beautiful and too pure for the world." Lower down on the Potomac is the celebrated Gunston Farm. This was the Mason estate, and for nearly a century the home of that renowned family. Here George Mason, who w^as distinguished amongst the early founders of our Government, lived and died. He was one of the signers of the GEORGEMASON. S7 Declaration of Independence, and a member of Congress for many years. His son, George Mason, was reared to Ms father's profession, — a lawyer, — and was described to me as a man of most splendid gifts and varied accom- plishments, but of the most dissolute manners and basest passions. He had travelled extensively over Europe, mingled with the best society, and enriched his mind by converse with the greatest men of his times. All conceded that he was one of the most captivating of men. At the age of thirty he was known as the most abandoned of roues. He met in society a very charming young lady of the name of Powell. Her beauty, vivacity, and cultivation, though his heart was dead to love, induced Mr. Mason to propose marriage. This, after some hesitation, she accepted, not that she loved him, but her family were in mod- erate circumstances, and she married for position. It is to be hoped that there is to be found no- where in the history of man an instance of one who approaches the brutal excesses, the shameless vile- ness of Mason. His aim from the first was to sub- ject his wife to all those moral and social indignities which would degrade her and bring her down to his own level ; and by exposures the most revolting and vicious, to make her the pity and scorn of her slaves. For twenty years she bore his brutality, exiled herself from society, only finding enjoyment in the company of her child, and some peace in the days' and weeks' absence of her husband. And to her honor be it recorded, that she rose above that slough of odious putridity, like the western li]y, 88 GEORGE MASON. that blooms and exhales its sweetness in the midst of death. But there is an end to wickedness on the one hand, and suffering on the other. Mason died in his prime. Around his bed in his last hours stood many relatives and friends of the family, and the injured wife. "When the curtain had fallen between the dead and the living, she closed Mr. Mason's eyes, and said aloud to all "that this was the first act that she had performed for her husband in twenty years with pleasure." It was the voice of nature and virtue, expressing the sense of a great deliverance. The body of death was thrown off for- ever. But Mrs. Mason's womanly revenge was not yet fully gratified. She erected a tombstone over his dust, recorded his name, age, year and day of his death; and below is found the following lines: "Brandy, Brandy, bane of life, Source of evil, cause of strife, If men could half thy vices tell, They v^^ould w^ish thee safe in hell.'' Such is the epitaph of one of the most gifted and talented men in Virginia, and who might have left a name of honor to his country and his family. Mrs. Mason lived on the estate some years, until her only son died in his youth. She then left the place, and now, if alive, resides with her relatives in another portion of the State. FAMILY SERVANTS. 89 CHAPTER VI. The Slaves — Their Condition — Story of Hanson Yerly. The old family servants in Virginia are certainly the most interesting characters. They have most retentive memories, and take the greatest pleasure in relating the stories and histories of the past. Their dramatic .power and vivacity increases the interest with which one listens to their legends and tales. Certainly to the traveller there is no class of people in Virginia from whom so much that is valuable in tradition can be gleaned. The negroes of distinguished and wealthy fami- lies always felt exalted by being the property of such, and took upon themselves the airs of a slave aristocracy ; and in their churches and social gath- erings the respect they commanded, and position assigned them, were not decided by their own char- acter or appearance, but by the position of the mas- ter. Hence, the slaves of poor farmers or planters were treated with the greatest contempt by those of a wealthy and powerful family. 1^0 man has a greater admiration for rank, and no one is so exacting in claiming all its privileges, as the negro, and none feels so keenly the degradation of poverty. The negro is the most gentle and 8* 90 NEGRO PECULIARITIES. kindly hearted of the human race ; and it is the greatest joy of his life to love and honor some one whom he thinks worthy of such worship : conse- quently, he wdll be found always reflecting the manners, conversation, and opinions of his master. Hence, one middle-aged negro will assume the grave, pompous manner of the old planter ; while his son will wear the smiling, courtly air of young master. The slave of a minister is always known by the solemn reflections he introduces, and his throwing into every sentence, " Speaking after the manner of men." Thus, the slaves exhibit the manners, char- acteristics, and life of the families to whom they belong ; and in all those qualities which awaken in- terest and sympathy, the negroes of Virginia are superior to the poor whites of the same State. The negro is much the most active, hopeful, and earnest: the white man is ignorant to a proverb, listless and indifferent to all present interests, and unconcerned about his future. But the negro has a much more lively, cheerful nature, and a shrewd aptitude for acquiring useful arts which throws the whites into the shade. And certainly, to all that is beautiful in song, sweet in music, and rich in eloquence, there is no man more alive than the negro. I have never known a people to whose better nature an appeal could be made with more certainty of response than to this race. And less than all men is his nature vindictive, but cheerful, contented, and patient. They speak of the wrongs they have suffered with a calmness and spirit of for- giveness which, if borne by white men, would place on their heads the crown of martyrdom. From all OVERSEERS.* 91 I could learn, the old families of Virginia were kinder to their slaves, and more thoughtful for all their interests, than the class of masters who had recently risen to power. On large plantations there were, beyond doubt, many cases of aggravated wrong and cruelty ; for the overseers, as a class, were the most brutal and tyrannical of men, selected because they could wring the most labor from human sinews and bones. The master who owned more than fifty slaves could not have much personal knowledge of each of these ; and when the number reached hundreds, he could not have any such acquaintance with their characters and wants as would give them any secu- rity against wrong. It was in the power of the over- seer to inflict on each of these the deepest injuries, and to drive the slaves to madness and murder, and yet the master be ignorant of all that was going on. In many cases even a humane master shut his e^^es to the cruelties of his overseer ; for, in order to make anything from slave labor, the authority of the over- seer must be sustained. The uniform testimony of the slaves was, that the sorrows of their state were increasing every year. The trade in negroes broke up their family relations, and rendered the servants unhappy and distrustful. The faces of their masters were against them, and one act of cruelty made necessary many more. Something of that universal impulse felt by the human mind in all lands, found its way into every slave cabin, and produced indig- nation where there was once patience ; restlessness where there was formerly contentment ; anger and the purpose of revenge in the place of humble sub- 92 VISIT TO HANSON. raissioii. If the war had not broken out, the status of slavery in Virginia could not have long continued. There were many signs that the volcanic fires were heaving, and the earth was trembling beneath their feet. I think one of the most interesting chapters in the history of man might be written from the narra- tives of slaves now in our army. While our camp was in the neighborhood of Alexandria, I often heard of the wisdom and piety of a colored man living near, who was called Han- son. I invited my friend, and almost companion, Dr. Crawford, to go on a visit to Hanson. I was more anxious to see him, as I had learned from various conversations with different persons, white and black, that Hanson sometimes preached to his people, and had the highest reputation for sobriety, truthfulness, and industry. We soon reached his house, less than a mile from our camp. We intro- duced ourselves to his wife, whom we found a bright, pleasant-faced mulatto woman of about forty. The house was neat, well whitewashed, covered with vines without, and carpeted within. We saw about the place three children, much superior to their class in Virginia in manner and dress. They were able to read, and we saw several excellent books arranged on the stand. One of the children was sent to call Hanson from 'the field. While the child was absent, we learned from the woman that her husband had purchased some years before the ten acres of land upon which they were living; and, after clearing it, planted some trees, and made the garden. Before the war HANSON'S STORY. 93 they succeeded very well in sustaining themselves by raising vegetables for the market ; but now the soldiers stole at night their tomatoes, cabbages, potatoes, and fruit, and reduced them to the neces- sity of selling pies and cakes in camps, and washing for officers. There was no bitterness in her man- ner: their injuries were borne with the unmurmur- ing patience of the race. In a few moments Hanson came in. He was a 'man of powerful frame, fully six feet high, with a face much more Anglo-Saxon than African ; of re- markable dignity and gravity of manner, reminding one of many of the Virginia gentlemen of the olden school, whose style of speech, looks, and demeanor were much more English than American. "While apparently not broken mth age, his head was as white as snow ; but there still remained much of the force and vivacity of manhood. He thanked us for coming to see him. After we had conversed with him a few moments, some allusion was made to his long and possibly eventful life ; and we expressed a de- sire to hear from him some of the most noteworthy incidents of his history. He very willingly com- plied. In the following story, as we received it from his lips, I do not profess to give, in all instances, the precise words he used ; neither do I give any Afri- canisms, for these were not noticeable. HANSON'S STORY. "My mother, I was told, was a fair octoroon woman : she was the slave of my young master's father. My father was a white man, a Scotch or 94 hanson'sstory. English gentleman, one of those who, in old times, came from the old country to visit their relatives in Virginia. I never saw him. He went back, soon after I was born, to the land beyond the sea. My mother died when I was a little child, — my only recollections of her are those of a pale, sickly-look- ing woman, but to me very beautiful, who often hugged me in her arms and sung me to sleep ; and would you believe me, old as I am, I often dream of my mother, and always as pressing me to her bosom, and singing her lullaby. I was a poor child when she died, for I had no one to love me ; but I can well remember of crying and sobbing in bitter grief, and asking old master ' when they would bring back mamma from the ground?' " When I was about seven years of age, I began to hold master's horse, and to run errands. I soon began to wait at table, and became the favorite of young master. He was two years my senior, and acted constantly as my protector, and never allowed me to be maltreated or wronged. He made me his confidant, and poured into my ear all his plans for the future. As I could not read, he often read to me striking stories, and histories of travel ; and re- lated, when he returned home, the news of the neighborhood. My young master was an only son. He had sisters ; but he needed a boy to open his heart to, and who would always look up to him as better than any one else, and even as the wisest boy in the world. At all events, I was a favorite with my young master, and better treated than the other slave children ; and as I was his companion, rather than his slave, in those times, I felt but little of the hanson'sstory. 95 weight of those chains that were afterwards so heavy. My young master was gay, and fond of company ; and as he had many relatives in other counties, he was nearly half his time from home, and visited some of the most reputable and wealthy people of the State. This gave me, as I always attended him, an opportunity to see much of the country. "At that time, master, there was no trade in slaves. We were happier, less oppressed, and treated more like human beings, than afterwards. After we had passed three or four years in this way, my master met a young lady of Prince William county, by the name of Taylor, the daughter of Colonel Tay- lor, and became attached to her, and proposed mar- riage. I was with him when he went to bring home his bride, and I never can forget the gayety and splendor of that time. It was in the month of May, and everything was in the finest bloom. We went down in carriages, several of master's friends going with him. We drove to Colonel Tay- lor's in the morning, and looked on a scene such as is only once beheld in our lives. There was, as in front of most of the Virginia houses in those days, a long avenue of evergreens, poplars, and chestnuts. Along this avenue were all the slaves of this family, dressed in their best, some in white, with great tur- bans on the heads of the women, as was the custom in those days. All were dancing, and in a thou- sand ways showing how much they were interested in the occasion. Coming nearer to the house, the carriages and wagons of the neighbors and friends of the family lined both sides of the avenue. As we approached nearer, the sight was beautiful, master; 96 hanson'sstory. sucli a multitncle of ladies, so beautifully dressed, so gay and happy : to look upon tlieir smiling faces, you would think there was no sorrow^ in the world. Indeed, I have never forgotten it ; and often now the scene comes up before me, and I find myself saying, ' Where are they ? ' " I remember one of the great figures in the scene was the old minister, with his light silk stockings, " silver shoe and knee-buckles, white gloves, and pow- dered hair. We never see such sights now, such beautiful ladies, nor such noble-looking men. "But in the joy of that time commenced my first sorrow. Our vouns; mistress was severe, and never I/O J satisfied with the slaves ; and from being the hap- piest and most contented of people, we became mo- rose and unmanageable. " Even my young master gradually changed, and became severe and exacting. He had often promised that, when I reached the age of thirty, he would give me my liberty. I had been foolish enough to look forward in hope to that time, and to fill my soul with the dream of freedom. " I had already married a young woman, a slave of master's. She was a good woman, as light in color as myself; and I had arranged in my own mind that I would purchase my wife after I became free. "When I was thirty, master appeared to have for- gotten his promise ; and I could see that he thought a promise made to one of his own negroes was not binding. But he was still kind to me, and treated me with some of the old familiarity. I sought an opportunity of speaking to him on the subject. He HANSON'S STORY 97 told me he could not then give me freedom ; he had too much work to do ; and if he gave me liberty, all the other slaves would become discontented, and de- mand the same thing ; and that his wife was opposed to it. But he promised that he would permit me to make as much by carpenter work during the year as I found possible ; and if I gave him one hundred dollars a year, he would be satisfied. "I was greatly disappointed. I cannot tell you how, for a time, my soul was full of anger towards God and man. But soon I remembered that I had not fulfilled my own vows to God, and my sin had found me out ; and I hope that my trial was a bless- ing to me in the end. "Just about this time the slave-trade commenced in Virginia. In my early remembrances there was no trade in slaves. If there were any bought and sold, it was in the settlement of estates ; and it was made a point of family honor to purchase all the slaves within the circle of the relatives, and not per- mit families to be separated. In those days people did not speak of negroes as cattle, and as without afiection for their children. " The most of the old planters were kind to their people, not oppressing them with severe work, nor driving them in the fields with cruel overseers. There were not much gambling, drinking, and horse- racing in those days. Indeed, I remember the old Virginia planters, such as Washington, Dr. Powell, Mr. Carter, Judge Washington, and old Mr. Mason ; they were temperate, kind, and just; but before I became an old man, all these good and wise men 9 98 H A N S N ' S S T R Y. were gone. Their sons were bad men, fouglit duels, drank, gaml^led, and were cruel to their slaves. " "Wlien I had been married four or ^ye years, a trader came from E'orth Carolina to Alexandria in a little schooner, loaded with bacon. For this there happened to be a great demand that year. This man had no intention of commencing a trade in slaves ; but some of the planters offered him a young boy or girl for bacon, and in this way he began to buy, and collected, I suppose, ten or twelve. " The next year he returned, and brought with him two vessels loaded with salt pork. At that time, master, we raised very little, in this part of Virginia, but tobacco ; and if the crop failed, the planters ha\dng to buy much of their meat, were hardly pressed ; and there appeared to be some ex- cuse for selling one slave for the benefit of many. "But the trader came back, and began to be called the 'bacon man.' This time he proposed to take slaves in exchange for his meat; he had opened a profitable trade. This year he bought a large number of slaves; poor planters, dissipated men in debt, ^vidows with estates they could not manage, — all now began to talk of selling slaves. " From this commenced a great trouble amongst ^s — our hearts trembled with fear. To be carried away, and sold in those distant new States, was to us the occasion of far greater misery than our fathers endured in being stolen from Africa. Every autumn the 'bacon man' returned, and others came with him, and there was opened a great trade in negroes. "I never can forget the wretchedness of those years. We all felt as if a sword was hanging over Hanson's STORY. 90 our heads, and as bad as if we had heard the death- angel strike three times on our doors. " Oh, what dreadful sorrows there were, master, in those years ! You have heard it said that slaves feel hut little, that we do not grieve as the whites ; but in this we are greatly wronged. We love more deeply, because we have but little to love. Our masters and mistresses have their carriages, farms, friends, offices, their slaves, their business ; but we have none of these : therefore to a neo-ro man all his life and happiness are in his cabin, and when you have taken away from him his wife and chil- dren, he has nothing left. Many have I known to die of a broken heart; others never had any joy again after a child or husband was sold away from them ; others I have known to commit suicide. '' When we saw the sails of the 'bacon man' un- furled, and his ships on the way down the Potomac, the panic of that year was over. And thoughtless and careless about the future as the slaves are, the fear of being torn from our friends, and sent away into dreadful hardships, settled like a heavy cloud on all our people. When we came together, it was to hear of some wrong or sorrow that set all our hearts on fire. ''Then commenced that alienation which has e:one on ever since, becoming a deeper and deeper gulf every year. " It was no free white men that came amongst us, and telling us we ought to be free, that turned our hearts against our masters. E'o, it was the sale of our fathers and mothers, our children and brothers. It was the dreadful misery of those days when they lOO Hanson's story. were lying in tlie slave-pen, tliat made us cease to love tliem. "Very soon it was found, as tlie lands were be- coming poorer from the constant raising of tobacco on the same fields, that the most profitable thing for a planter was to raise slaves for the market. The people were becoming poorer, but this trade opened to them a new mine of wealth ; and, before many years, slave-pens were opened in Alexandria, and hundreds were chained together and sent South. "Charles, the body-seiwant of General Jackson, told me that one spring, after the adjournment of Congress, the general went from Washington to Richmond on horseback. As they rode along be- yond Alexandria, they overtook and passe'd one of these gangs of chained slaves. The general was filled with horror at the sight ; and when he passed them he heard him exclaim, ' My God, what a ter- rible sight ! ' ^ Master,' said Charles, ' what do 3^ou think of that?' 'Think,' said the general, 'I do not want to think; surely a day of judgment will come ! ' "During these years, when the miseries of the colored people were increasing fast, my desire for freedom grew to be a passion. I thought of it by day, and dreamed of it by night. Many things fa- vored my plan at this time. I was but little at home, but worked on difierent farms, and in Wash- ington. One year I labored in the city ; and after making one hundred dollars for my master, and giving some to my wife, I had fifty dollars left. This I deposited in the hands of a banker by the name of Jones, a good man, who had often em- HANSON'S STORY.. 101 ployed me. This money I liad intended to nse in aiding me on my way to liberty. During all tliis year I had been maturing the plan for gaining my freedom. I had been learning all I could of the way to Canada, and had mapped out in my own mind all the streams and mountains of Pennsylvania and Maryland. At length, when we were coming to Christmas, I had all ready for my journey. I had committed my secret to no one, not even to my wife, and had been so much occupied with my plans, that I did not think very much of the sorrow I would have in parting with her and my children. But I went home to my cabin on Saturday evening ; the children were never so beautiful, and their ways so winning. Oh, master, I thought my heart would break ! " Often, during that evening, I had to leave my cabin and go out to weep ; and then would return and hug my children, as if I would take them into my heart, and carry them with me. That night was one of restlessness and prayer. I had no fear of being taken ; I felt certain I could escape, for I could be in Canada before my master would in- quire for me. But was it right to enjoy a boon which I could not give to my wife and children ? "Was it right to tear from them the great happiness of their lives? "Was it not cruel to subject them to the insult and wrong which my escape would cer- tainly bring upon them ? " I whispered not a word to my wife of my pur- pose, and she knew nothing of the cause of my great distress. I rose early in the morning, kissed my children, blessed them, bid farewell to my wife, and 9* 102 Hanson's story. promised tjoon to return. I crossed the Potomac, went to the house of Mr. Jones in Washington, drew my money, and wandered through" the streets until evening. My pLan was to commence my journey at night. When it hecame fully dark, I turned my face towards the IlN'orth, and crept along through the streets, and for the first time in my life, skulked like a thief. When I had gone beyond the houses of Washington, I had no more fear of being seen. Ah ! then my wife and children came up before me like my fingers. I could not see my way — my tears blinded my eyes. I felt their arms around my neck, and their soft faces on my cheek, and their little hands were pressing me back. I wandered, not knowing where I was going, until I found my- self standing on the bank of the Potomac, looking over at my cabin. I stopped, and reasoned with myself. Was not this the hour for which I had been planning for years ? And now, when all was ready, and the gates open, was I to be so foolish and soft-hearted ? Was not liberty worth more than everything I had ? Could I not, when I had found the way, come back for my wife and children ? I talked in this way with myself, master, and resolved to be free. I would not listen to my heart, but would have the satisfaction of breathing the air of Kberty, and of being my own master. ^' I turned again towards the North, and when I had gone into the silence of the woods beyond the city, my wife and my children came up before me like my fingers. I tried to be strong : they appeared to look into my face and reprove me. I could not endure it; and I wandered without purpose, until Hanson's story. 10^ again I stood on the bank of the Potomac looking over at my home. Master, nature was too strong for me. This time I crossed and went to my cabin. It was not yet morning. I never tried it again. This satisfied me that it was not right for me to leave my family. I now took myself more earnestly than ever to my Lord. I learned to read, and obtained greater comfort than ever in the blessed gospel. I was hap- pier than for years, for the conflict in my bosom was ended. I still desired liberty, but committed my cause to my God. But one great sorrow followed on the heels of another. ''First, my wife was seized with a cough and gradu- ally declined, becoming more beautiful and heavenly until she left us. This greatly increased my care and anxiety for my children. My daughters were taken into the house by our mistress, and she was not kind to them. My boy was too small to be sent into the fields to work : I was sent away to labor as a carpenter, and could rarely see my childi^en. I could, indeed, nearly always be at home on Satur- day night, and stay over Sabbath : sometimes I was too far away, and I had a constant anxiety about them. "My daughters were good-looking and smai-t, and I knew that master was offered a high price for them ; and when I thought of their being sold away from me, my heart died within me; and often, master, I have worked all day, and travelled ten miles at night to assure myself that my children were not sold. "'In those times, master, I was often angry, and my heart was very bitter. I thought of the hundreds I had made for master, and I had nothing; and I 104 Hanson's story. could exj^ect no kindness or pity from him. I was at times very miserable, and knew not what would have become of me if my Lord had not laid his hand on me and said, ' Hanson, be still, I will help you.' And he did help me. I was never for- saken. "When I was nearly fifty, my master was taken ill, and continued to be unwell for three years : his disease was dropsy. Sometimes, for a few weeks, he would be nearly well, and then be brought very low again. During those years he was very kind to me, and often sent for me. At one of those visits I found him more unwell than usual; he was breathing with difiiculty, and greatly agitated. 'Hanson, you have been very faithful to me, and I have been very un- faithful to you. I promised you liberty many years since.' I said to him, ' Master, have no trouble about Hanson. Think of yourself and what is before you.' 'OliI' said he, 'this is the thing that most distresses me. I have always intended at some time or other to be a Christian ; but while I was promising myself this, I had no thoughts of the difficulties I was daily gathering in my way, and that my procrastination was bearing me, like a ship broken loose, far out to sea ; and when I awake I know not where I am. I look up and can see no star, no sun, no beacon light, — all is darkness, pitchy darkness. What can I do ? To pray after I have so long sinned is like a mockery ; and when I ask for mercy and try to re- pent, there is so much to be done that I know not where to begin. Can I ask for mercy until in all things I try to make amends for the past ? I am hedo^ed about ; I know not where, to turn. What Hanson's story. 105 can I do, Hanson ? Looking on the world and into eternity, as I ,now do, if the choice was offered me, I would gladly exchange with you; I would be born with the colored skin, begin life as a slave, and take all your sorrows, in order that I might have your hope and your Saviour. But, Hanson, I awake too late. Oh ! what shall I do ? where shall I turn for help ? ' I told him that our Lord was very merciful ; that he had pitied and saved the thief on the cross ; that he had healed the most miserable sinners ; and that he had spoken the parable of the Prodigal Son to encourage those who awoke to a sense of guilt and ruin, who felt that all they had trusted in had failed them, and all they had leaned on was broken. 'I Ivnow, I know,' said he, 'but how can I go to Christ? I have neglected him long ; I am full of guilt ; I have often, with my eyes open, broken the law of God; I have joined with scoffers, and when I knew that what they and I said was false and blasphemous. The thief never sinned as I have done. I cannot ask for mercy, for I must be honest with God. And when I plead with him to forgive me, I must try to break oft' all sin and make amends for the past. And where shall I begin? What shall I do with my 'negroes? If I emancipate them, I injure my family, and they will curse my memory : everything is wrong ; every way I turn there is a yawning gulf. I am like a ship- wrecked sailor cast on a naked rock — every way I look I see nothing but death. God! I wish I had never been born.' I fell on my knees and prayed God to show mercy to my poor, sinful master. He sobbed aloud, and covered his face with the sheet. 106 Hanson's story. I rose to my feet and left the room, and this was the last time I ever saw him alive. . "A few days after his death, my mistress called me to her room. She said: 'Hanson, you have for a long time desired to he free ; your master spoke to me of it on his death-hed, and I promised him to see you, and propose a way hy which you may gain your liberty.' She then told me that my master had always liked me, and said that I was true and faith- ful to all his interests, and in consideration of this she would give me the opportunity of buying my- self, and would ask of me only one-half of what I would bring in the market. I replied to this: 'You know, mistress, how long and faithfully I have served you, making for you many hundred dollars, and now I am old, and cannot do much more. If you give me my freedom, I will promise never to be a burden to you or your children ; but to raise four hundred dollars I cannot promise. But liberty is so dear that if you insist on the money I will work until I die in order to raise it.' She said I could easily raise the sum ; and then, giving me not a word of comfort, with the cold look of one who was en- during a wrong rather than doing a favor, she dis- missed me. "I made a great effort to secure the offered free- dom. I went to some white gentlemen in Alexan- dria, and to Mr. Jones in Washington : they loaned me the money, and I was free. I cannot tell you how deep was my gratitude to God for this great and long-sought boon. " This event was soon followed by the removal to the vicinity of Richmond of my eldest daugnter, who HANSON'S STORY. 107 went with her young mistress when she was married and moved there with her husband. My youngest daughter was now all that remained to me. She was a dear, kind child, and would bring far more in the market than I could soon raise; but if I had known that mistress would have listened to me, I would have toiled day and night to procure the money for her purchase. I was hoping that God would incline the heart of my mistress to give me the chance to buy her. But there fell suddenly on me a most ter- rible blow. On my return one night to my cabin, I heard that my daughter had been sold, and was then in the slave-pen in Alexandria. I hastened to the town, went to the slave prison, and said to the man at the gate, ' Can I see the trader?' He went for the man, who, when he came, treated me kindly. I asked him, 'Is there a young woman here named Lucy, the slave of Mrs. Tyrrel?' 'Yes,' he said, 'there is such a young woman here.' 'Can I see her ? I am her father.' 'We cannot permit you to see her without a pass from her mistress.' ' That I shall never ask for; I am her father; I shall see her, but never until I stand with her and mistress in the judgment.' I left the prison a poor broken-hearted man. "I was now alone in the world. I rarely saw my mistress ; she shunned me, and I never sought her. In the course of a year or two she sold her farm here, and moved back to her father's neighborhood. I felt that my age would be cheerless and lonely, and, after some time, married a free woman, who is now my wife. We have lived happily together. "For years I have been looking for some great 108 Hanson's story. trouble. The people here were far richer and more extravagant, and appeared to me much less religious, than those I remember in my youth. They had be- come cruel, and, without any mercy, had torn asun- der those whom God had bound together; and a great wail of sorrow and agony went up in the ears of heaven from all parts of Virginia — ^wives sorrow- ing for their husbands, husbands mourning for their wives, and parents weeping for their children, and would not be comforted. "I knew that a day of vengeance would come for all this, but I did not expect it to fall on us in the way of a war between the N^orth and South. I began to fear some heavy curse when the great gangs of chained slaves were first sent from Virginia, and that the day would soon come when the cup of our iniquities would be full. ^' 'Now all these great and influential families have been ruined, and many of them are wandering beg- gars. I was a few days since walking in my garden, looking down on the country, and the change of a few months deeply affected me. I looked over on the house and farm of Mrs. Powell. I remembered the doctor, her husband, a very smart man, and her ^yq sons, the most popular young men in the country, and also her beautiful daughters. Her house was the resort of many elegant and wealthy people, but now her sons are in the Confederate Army, her house is a hospital, her beautiful garden trodden down, her orchards destroyed, and the fences all gone. " There is the house of Mrs. Lee, where, the week that Ellsworth was killed, one of her daughters wa8 Hanson's story. 109 married, and tlie house was filled with gayety and mirth ; now the grounds are in ruins, her furniture broken, and all the beautiful things she gathered are scattered. There, too, is the place of Colonel Hunter, his fields open, his barns burnt for fuel, and his house consumed to the ground; and likewise the place of General Lee, one of the finest in Vir- ginia, now used by your troops. His grain-fields and meadows were thrown open, and beaten as the high roads. ''At these painful sights my soul was moved, and I cried, ' Lord ! why has this curse come on Vir- ginia?' And it appeared to me as plain as I ever heard human speech, a voice spoke to me and said, ' man ! knowest thou the land most highly favored of heaven, and where, because God was good, men became desperately wicked, and inflicted the greatest wrongs?' And the voice said, 'Virginia.' Again I heard, 'Knowest thou, man! the land where hu- man beings were bred as cattle for the market, and where every year thousands of them were sent forth to a fate which they dreaded more than death?' The answer came, 'Virginia.' Again the voice said, 'Knowest thou the land where, in the midst of the greatest blessings, there has been the deepest misery ; where most faces were washed with tears, and most hearts torn with anguish ; and where the constant wail of distress, inflicted by man on his fel- low, was going up into the ears of God?' And the voice said, 'Virginia.' Again the voice said, 'God is just.' " Then," said the old patriarch, stretching out his arms, and lowering them as if he was relieving his 10 110 HANSON'S STORY. hands of a great weigM, " I laid my burden down. And as often as I have mourned since, I have been silenced by that voice, 'God is just.' " Dr. Crawford was moved to tears, and said : " My friend, many have been your sorrows ; but you will soon forget them all in the rest of the kingdom of God." ^'Oh, yes," said the old man, ^'I shall understand it all there!" PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING. Ill CHAPTER VII. Embarkation for the Peninsula — Fortress Monroe — Early Dis- coveries — Description of the Country and its Wealth — Fight between the Merrimac and Monitor — Excitement and Terror at the Fortress. We bade farewell to tlie scenes rendered familiar and dear by many months of acquaintance and friendships for life ; and on the morning of the 17th of March struck our tents, gave away the furniture of our winter homes, and prepared for the march to Alexandria. The day was beautiful, with just enough of coolness to give vigor, and enough of spring to cause all the birds to sing with the wildest glee, and the trees to stand with that silent, expectant look they wear on such days, as if the warmth of the sunshine was bearing joy to every bud. Wlien, from our camp, we came to the height over Little Hunting Creek, the spectacle that burst upon our view was brilliant. The entire plain and hill-side were covered with armed men ; great columns of soldiers, whose guns flashed in the light, moved under the eye. Here, on the right, in the meadows of the plain, were thou- sands of horsemen, their polished armor reflecting the sunbeams like hundreds of mirrors. Li the fields, on the left, were many batteries. Here, still farther to the left, stretching from the hills to the 112 THE EMBARKATION. streets of Alexandria, was a long dense column of men, flowing like a dark river, from whose surface arise bubbles, sparkling in the sunshine. In the Potomac lay a thousand craft, of every form and sail. The bands of the various regiments added to the effect by playing the same tune ; and often there was a grand burst of harmony rolling over the fields, and quickening every pulse as we lis- tened. It was a gay and brilliant pageant. But was there no fear that all this would pass away like the dream of the night, and that in a very few months one- half of that army, now so vigorous and hopeful, would be sought for in hospitals or in the grave ? We embarked on the same afternoon, weighed anchor about dark, and steamed down the Potomac. We stopped for the night at Aquia Creek, and the following morning again weighed anchor, and in the afternoon entered Chesapeake Bay ; and only in the dim distance could we discern the faint outline of the shore of Virginia. There was, during all this afternoon, looming up in the West and South, a very heavy thunder-storm. This broke upon us be- fore we reached Portress Monroe ; the sea became very rough, and we had to land when the waves were breaking in great billows over the beach. The vessels dashed against each other, cables were broken, and steamers full of men drifted helplessly from the docks. In the most unpit^ung storm we landed, and gathered in shivering bands on the shore. There were no shelters, our tents could not be reached, and if they could, there was no spot to pitch them. LANDING AT HAMPTON. 113 Yeiy fortunately, but few vessels could reacli the shore, and hence not many regiments were landed. After cowering in the tempest for two hours, at length orders came from General Wool to march the brigade across the bridge towards Hampton, and find encampment. In the darkness, and the storm beating in their faces, with no light but the flashes of the lightning, the men marched more than a mile and a half to an open moor, and there, without tents and without fire, nearly knee-deep in water, pre- pared to spend the night. Dreadful would have been the saff*erings of that night; but there were those who heard of our distress, and pitied us. The 16th Heg-iment of Massachusetts Volunteers were encamped about half a mile from the place where we were halted. Some of this noble body of men were on guard when our bewildered and drip- ping men passed by. Wlien they were relieved and returned to their camp, they roused half their regi- ment ; and in a few moments came to us with large buckets of hot coffee and crackers. This kindness was of incalculable benefit to us. It was the sympathy of true men and soldiers tow- ards their companions in arms, and cheered us more than the warmth of their offering. But their efforts for us did not cease with this ; for they aroused the camp of the 11th Pennsylvania Cavalry, who opened for us their stables, and into these we crept, and were sheltered from the storm. Without the kindly intervention of these two regiments, great would have been the sufferings of that wretched night ; many would have risen in the morning from their miry beds, to be borne to hospitals, or left in 10* 114 THE YANKEE SOLDIER. the rear as incurably diseased. This Samaritan charity touched us more deeply, because it was a night when nothing but the call of duty could have forced a soldier from his tent ; yet these men came from warm beds, braved the storm, plunged into the morasses and swamps, and found us ; nor did they rest until, at two o'clock in the morning, they saw the last of our poor fellows sheltered from the tempest. I heard a member of the United States Senate, from the West, in his place on the floor of Congress, say: " Sir, the Western men hate the Secessionists, laugh at the negro, and despise the Yankee." I know of some Western men who have a very dif- ferent feeling towards the Yankee soldiers. We can never forget their bravery in our hundred battles, and their catholic sympathy in our hour of need. I know of no troops in the army who have so just an appreciation of the great interests at stake in this struggle ; and who are able, with so much intelli- gence, to defend our position at the bar of con- science and the world. After this storm had passed away, we were able to look abroad and weave together, as in a picture of tapestry, the threads of the landscape. We were now in that region of Virginia of the deepest historic interest. In the spring of the year 1607, three little ships, sent from England, com- manded by Lord ITewport, sought a landing on our coast. On board of these vessels were one hundred and five men for the settlement of Virginia. At the head of these was the celebrated Captain Smitn, a man of rare genius and military ability. N^ewport HAMPTON ROADS. 115 had intended to land on Koanoke Island, but a severe storm drove him further north, and he was compelled to enter Chesapeake Bay ; and a point which they reached, where they found deep water, put the tempest-tossed emigrants in ''good com- fort;" hence the name given to the ground on which the fort stands, "Point Comfort." Here a country opened which appeared "to claim preroga- tive over the most pleasant places in the world." At Hampton they smoked the pipe of peace with the In- dian king ; and after some days spent in surveys and reconnoissances, on the 13th of May they entered a beautiful river, and, in honor of the English mon- arch, called it James River, and laid the foundation of the first settlement in Virginia at Jamestown. Thus was discovered one of the finest harbors on the E'orth American coast, which, in connection with its great tide-water advantages, should have made Virginia the first of our States in commerce and wealth. The depth of the anchorage at Hampton Roads is 59J feet ; from this to Sewell's Point, a distance of six miles, the depth is 25J feet ; from Sewell's Point to Norfolk, 12 miles, the depth is 23J feet ; and from' Hampton to the mouth of the James River, eight miles, the depth is from 22^ to 27J feet. From Chesapeake Bay to Yorktown, a distance of 30 miles, the depth is 33J feet. These are the low tide meas- urements. The depth at the entrance of the bay, between Capes Henry and Charles, is 30 feet, thus giving a far more magnificent harbor than that of New York; and all the navies of the world might, with safety, 116 ADVANTAGES OF HAMPTON. lie in its capacious bosom. This is, unquestionably, one of the most interesting regions on our conti- nent, reminding one of the rich delta of the Mle. Five rivers converge their streams, and pour their v^aters within fifty miles of each other into Chesa- peake Bay, — the Potomac, James, Rappahannock, York, and Elizabeth Rivers. The tide rolls up these rivers one hundred and one hundred and fifty miles, and again up forty or fifty miles in the streams tribu- tary to these, such as the Pamunkey, Chickahominy, Blackwater, etc. The largest steamers and men-of- war have ascended these rivers for more than one hundred miles; and thus can be borne out to the ocean, at all seasons, the productions of the State. These rivers give to Virginia a sea or tidal coast of more than one thousand miles, nearly twice as great as that of ISTew York ; and unbounded must must be the surprise of any one familiar with the causes securing, and often compelling, the growth of commercial cities and States, to see here all these advantages thrown away. Here, where many '^golden horns" pour out the rivers of plenty, we only find the small village of Hampton as the growth of two centuries and a half of Virginia commerce. Certainly, if her brain and right hand had not been numbed by a fatal paralysis, a city should have arisen here equal to or greater than 'New York. And added to all these advan- tages, the whole trade of the West was at the disposal of Virginia. The difiiculties in the way of her se- curing the passage of the productions of the Valley of the Mississippi to the sea-coast through her canals, and over her railroads, were not to be com- THE TIDE -WATER COUNTIES. 117 pared with, those to be surmounted by Pennsylvania and jSTew York. She stretched her arms far west, and the mountains to be scaled were broken, and more than one great natural passage-way existed to the Mississippi and Ohio. The comparative gentleness of her climate, the roads unobstructed by snow, her rivers never chained by ice, her vast fields of coal, secured to Virginia the vantage-ground in her race for empire and wealth. But all these were sacrificed and forfeited, and to-day is her retribution. She, the mother of States, " Sits voiceless and crownless In her silent woe." The tide-water counties, thirty-seven in number, are level and flat, not rising more than sixty-five feet above the sea. Still, there are in them counties of undulating, waving land. The air is still, and, as in many parts of the world where there is a vast as- semblage of waters seeking the sea, the heavens bazy, the dews very heavy, and the rains without a parallel, except in tropical regions. Thunder-storms arise and succeed each other with- a rapidity that mocks care and safety : the heaviest gloom and the brightest sunshine cha^e each other with fabulous speed ; hence vegetable life has a richness not often seen in our country, and some plants, vines, and fruits attain to rare excellence. In consequence of *the country rising so little above the level of the sea, there is in the peninsular and tide-water counties great quantities of swamp-land. Many of these could be redeemed, but are now almost as impenetrable as the jungles of India. But long 118 THE TIDE -WATER COUNTIES. tongues of the ricliest alluvial land pierce these heavy forests, and give a narrow strip of country, three, five, and ten miles wide, and on either side remain the dark forest and bog of primitive times. The people residing on these narrow strips of fer- tile land are separated from each other by morasses rarely crossed ; and hence live as much out of the world as the inhabitants of small sea islands, and have felt but little of that stimulus imparted to the public mind by travel, education, and railroads. Here, as elsewhere, we found that the old families preferred to drag along in deep poverty, and to dwell in wretched houses, rather than part with the lands which still give them some claim to be ranked with the first families of Virginia. These tide-water counties afforded the very best lands for fruit-growings. The soil is for the greater part a warm, sandy loam. With this is mingled sea- shells, so that all the well and spring water is highly charged with carbonate of lime (hard). These tide- water lands had been advancing rapidly in value as their true worth became known. 'No doubt there is a great source of wealth in the hitherto untouched forest-lands on the banks of the York, Chickahominy, Pamunky, and James Rivers. Many i^orthern men were engaged in getting out this timber for ship-building and other purposes at the commencement of the war, and were opening a useful and profitable trade. Their mills and stock were abandoned, and they compelled to fiee from conscription and imprisonment. But peace and free- dom will bear new enterprise and life into these un- broken wilds. FISHERIES OF VIRGINIA. 119 This region will not be for many years, possibly never, so attractive as tbe higher and valley lands of the State. In summer the heat is oppressive, and in autumn bilious and intermittent fevers are preva- lent. The wealthy families leave their homes in July and August, and do not return until the last of September. But the winters are salubrious, and, as a general thing, cloudless. One great and as yet almost untouched source of wealth, are the fisheries of Chesapeake Bay and the tide-water rivers. In the year 1860 the value of these fisheries to Virginia was $86,000. This is thought to fall far below the truth, for the proceeds of the shore fisheries are supposed to be greater than this alone, the river frontage on single farms on the Potomac renting as fisheries for more than $3000 a year. The oyster fisheries of York River are full of promise, and will open a great and most important trade in the future. If proper encouragement had been given to planting in former years, the value of these fisheries would have been equal to any in the United States. The difficult and dangerous disembarkation of our troops at Fortress Monroe, and our subsequent taking the York Eiver as the base of our operations, was simply caused by the terror the Merrimac had excited. If the army could have been landed at E"ewpoii: isTews, and marched up James River to Richmond, there would have been before us few of those ob- structions which blocked up our way on York River. We would have found a good road, and, attended 120 THE MEREIMAC, by our fleet, all the supplies of tlie army would have been within our reach; and we could have left York- town and Williamsburg in our rear, to fall into our hands at our leisure. It was probably General McClellan's original plan of operations, to make James River his base. But true to a prudence that never braved a danger, he changed his plan after the appearance of the Merrimac. The Merrimac was one of the United States ves- sels of war consumed in the harbor of J^orfolk. Her hull was fished up by the Confederates, clad with iron, and on the 8th of March she came out of Eliza- beth River, attended by two iron-clad steamers, and advanced steadily towards the mouth of the James River. Here were lying at anchor two United States frigates, the Cumberland and the Congress. They poured broadside after broadside into the Merrimac, but the shells struck her angular roof and bounded off. One shell of the Cumberland is said to have made some impression on the hull of the ironside. But without firing a gun in return, she kept steadily on her way, until she struck with her spear the side of the Cumberland. This vessel careened, filled with water, and began to sink ; but her noble com- mander refused to strike her colors, or ask quarter, and the crew worked their guns and fired even when the water was rushing over the deck where they stood, and two hundred men went down with her. The Merrimac then summoned the Congress to sur- render. This she refused, but answered by a broad- side. To this the Merrimac replied by a terrific discharge of shell, which tore through the doomed vessel, cut down many of her crew, and rendered THE MERRIMAC. 121 any further action on the part of her commander useless and fatal: her sails were set and she ran ashore, and in a few moments burst into flames. In this part of the action Captain Buchanan was wounded by a rifle ball, or fragment of a shell. In the meantime, the Minnesota and Roanoke steamed out from under the guns of the fort for the scene of action. The Minnesota might have accom- plished the destruction of the Merrimac by running her down, but before she came within range she ran aground in a position most dangerous. The Merri- mac did not attempt the destruction of the Minne- sota, which might have been easily accomplished, but remained ofi" ]N"ewport I^ews, shelling the batteries and the camps : the presiding genius was evidently gone from his post. Satisfied with this as the work of one day, and possibly for the relief of her wounded captain, possibly for further orders, she returned for the night to Norfolk. In the meantime, all was consternation in the fort and army. The Merrimac would undoubtedly re- turn to-morrow, destroy the Minnesota, compel the surrender of the hundred vessels in the bay, bom- bard the fort, and possibly render necessary its evacuation. She might run under the guns of the fort, ascend the Potomac and bombard Washington, and drive President, Cabinet, and Congress from the seat of government. Unnumbered were the pre- dictions of evil, and the hearts of the stoutest failed them; for all the old appliances of naval warfare, which had been so eff'ective in the past, were power- less in the case of this monster. The terrific scenes of to-day only awakened the deeper dread of to-mor- 11 122 THE MONITOR. row. Even Gen era! Wool talked despondingly of tlie fate of the fortress, and the deepest gloom per- vaded all minds, and none knew where to turn in hope. There had been, indeed, some newspaper notices of the Monitor, but her destination was unknown. At eight o'clock in the evening of this fatal Satur- day this nondescript came into the waters of the bay, unannounced and unlooked for. Her appearance was so insignificant that she at- tracted no attention. In a few moments on shore, her commander, Lieutenant Worden, learned of the catastrophes of the day, and the consternation of the night. He immediately presented himself to Gene- ral "Wool, and, like the young David, profiered to meet and conquer the giant enemy. The general was evidently afraid this would be but another act in the tragedy. How could a little vessel of two guns contend with such a powerful steamer as the Merrimac, candying eight guns of the largest calibre ? but as the events of the day had thrown the whole science of naval warfare into original chaos, it might be this pigmy could accomplish something effective in the contest. But whatever the result. General Wool could not reject the proffered aid. The Moni- tor that same night moved away from before the fort, and took her place near IN^ewport !N'ews. Sabbath morning dawned a fair and beautiful day. The officers and men in the camps seized a cracker, and hurried to the shore; the walls of the fort were black with multitudes who with glasses were peering into the waters for the coming enemy. All the houses around the fort, and along the shore of the bay, were THE MEIIRIMAC AND MONITOR. 123 crowded witli those who looked with, pale and anx- ious faces for the Merrimac. The shore itself was crowded bj a great multitude, waiting for the shock and end. The one hundred steamers and ships were with steam up and sails unfurled, and the sailors at the capstans to elevate the anchors, and be ready in a moment to glide out of danger. As yet but few outside of the fort knew of the arrival of the Monitor. The expectant multitude had not long to wait; the black smoke in the distance heralded the com- ing foe. At length her dark hull was seen, and in a few moments the cry ran along the shore, "She is coming! she is coming ! " The excitement was in- tense : children climbed upon the shoulders of their fathers ; mothers held up their babes to look on the scene ; hundreds of negroes hung upon the branches of trees, and to every mast and yard-arm clung a multitude of sailors. The interest was so absorbing that few spoke : more and more distinct became the nearing vessel, attended, as on the previous occasion, by the two gunboats. The Merrimac steamed directly for the Minnesota. But suddenly a report from a rebel gunboat at the mouth of James River called the notice of the Mer- rimac to an unexpected enemy. The boats started from her side in the direction of isTewport E'ews. 'Now could be seen coming out from the shore a small object like a speck on the waters, "no larger," in the words of my chief in- formant, "than the head of a floating barrel." All eyes and glasses were now turned towards this new wonder, and a thousand inquiries ran from one clus- 124 THE MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. ter of gazers to another. As tlie gunboats approached the Monitor, there came out from her tower a vivid flash, which was followed by the terrific roar of an one- hundred-and-twenty-pound gun. This satisfied the gunboat; she turned and fled from the Monitor more rapidly than she had advanced. All this time the Monitor was slowly approaching the Merrimac, which in her turn was advancing on her puny antagonist. This fresh act was opened by the Merrimac. Two or three of her great guns flashed together, then there was a mighty roar, causing the sea to tremble, the ships to roll, and the houses on the shore to shake. One shell was seen to strike the tower of the Monitor, and fall on her like dust; another struck her flat deck, and bounded into the heavens with a scream that sounded like the wail of agony. In a moment the Monitor returned the fire, and flash followed flash from the guns in both vessels, until the sea was covered with smoke, and in the bosom of the dark pall only the glare of light told the positions of the foes. After this cannonading had continued an hour, the Merrimac ran ofi" a short distance, apparently to ■ change either her tactics or her position ; and after a rest of a few moments, she again turned on the Monitor at full speed, and attempted to run her down. She succeeded in running her prow on the little raft, which glided out from under her powerful enemy unhurt, and almost touching her, poured shell from both of her guns into the hull of the Merrimac. ITow commenced the most exciting part of the spectacle ; each now began to seek tho VICTORY OF THE MONITOR. 125 weakest point of the other, aiming by ev«.y move- ment to obtain the advantage. It was evident they had concluded the only vulnerable points of each were the port-holes, and they waited for the flash of each others' guns, and one flash was succeeded by an instantaneous flash from the other vessel. At length even this was given up ; and the Monitor be- gan to run around the Merrimac, and to pour shell after shell into her stern. This the Merrimac evi- dently dreaded, and turned and shifted her position as often as possible, and continued to fire, but not with the definiteness of aim which had marked the earlier part of the engagement. It now became manifest that the Merrimac was weary of the con- test, if not injured. When it became certain that the Monitor was not at the mercy of the Merrimac, but even superior to her, the sense of relief was beyond language to ex- press, — a multitude shouted for joy, and tears flowed down many manly faces. The contest was still maintained, though the Mer- rimac commenced retiring towards ]!^orfolk, but stopping like an enraged bull for another battle. The Monitor continued to run around her, and pour her shot into the stern and hull. After the battle had lasted for four hours, the im- pression was made, by the appearance and careen- ing of the Merrimac, that she was seriously damaged. She slackened her fire, and turned her head towards Norfolk; the Monitor followed, pouring shot after shot into her. Some two or three miles from this scene, lying on the waters, was a large steamer from Norfolk, cov- 11* 126 REBEL SPECTATORS. ered by a multitude of ladies and gentlemen, who, having heard of the triumph of yesterday, came out to witness the burnings, surrenders, contests, and victories of to-day. In her pursuit of the Merrimac, the Monitor sent a shell at this steamer, which caused her to quit the field with the utmost rapidity. The Monitor chased the Merrimac one mile amd stopped, and one of the most remarkable contests in history was ended. It is said by many that the Merrimac returned to l^orfolk on Saturday night, to receive orders from the Confederate Government in regard to what should be the aim of to-morrow. FORTRESS MONROE. 127 CHAPTER VIII. Fortress Monroe — The Ruins of Hampton — The Scene attend- ing its Destruction — The Assembling of the Grand Army of the Potomac on the Plains of Hampton — The Novelty and Splendor of the Spectacle — March upon Yorktown. In order to catch the best impression of the land- scape, I soon found my way to the most prominent building, and one commanding the finest view of the scene. This building was the Chesapeake Hospital, for- merly a female college. This stands on the bay, about one mile to the left of the fort, the most com- manding object in all that region. The fort stands on the point of a long tongue of land running into the bay. The walls are, I suppose, fifty feet above the sea : many great guns are in position on these walls, and menacingly frown on any approaching vessel. The fort is surrounded by a moat, but is by no means impregnable. Across the bay, about four miles from the fort, lies a heavily wooded strip of low land. Between this and the fortress are the Rip Raps, where, on a shallow bar, the Government has commenced the erection of a fort ; when completed, this will add very greatly to the strength of the posi- tion. Afar off, to the left, were seen the white sand 128 OLD HAMPTON. beaches and dark, wooded peninsulas ; and to the right, the low shores about the mouths of the Eliza- beth and James Rivers; as far as the eye could reach; not a hill or swell of land arose to relieve the monotony ; at the same time the scene was far from uninteresting, for in the bay were two or three hun- dred vessels lying at anchor ; a hundred little boats were plying from these to the shore and fort; and the sea, always beautiful and rich in wonders and treasures of her own, was there. But certainly the most striking and never-to-be- forgotten feature of that scene was " Old Hampton." This town lies about two miles from the fort, and we looked upon it in ruins, every house being con- sumed ; but the naked walls of five hundred houses remained like vast skeletons, giving us some faint idea of the beauty, wealth, and enjoyment of the past. Many of the first families of the State resided here, and no place in Virginia was richer in historic legends. The old English church, one of the oldest in the State, ought to have been spared, as a venerable and sacred relic : now its naked walls utter a pro- test against that vandalic barbarism which consigned it to ruin. At the time Hampton was burned, General Butler was in command at the fort; our line had extended beyond Hampton; most of the inhabitants had fled, but some remained. After the battle at Great Bethel, General Butler had with- drawn our men from beyond the creek. In order to prevent our occupying the town as winter-quar- ters, General Magruder sent down a hundred of his men, who, at a given signal, were to set fire to every THE BURNING OF HAMPTON. 129 house in the place. One of the inhabitants, a patri- cian of wealth, with whom I became acquainted, unwilling to leave the only house he had in the world, remained in the town ; and on the afternoon of this day was rejoiced to find a favorite nephew knocking at his door. He had come down from the army to see his uncle and family, and would remain some hours. He recounted to his gratified relative the adventures and escapes of the last few months. After tea he told his uncle that he had an un- pleasant duty to perform, and that was to aid in firing the town ; and that his orders were to begin at his house, and five minutes would be given him and his family to flee from the burning place. All was consternation and confusion ; they knew not what to take, or what to leave. And before they had recovered from the shock, the shriek came from many quarters, ''Fire! fire! the town is on fire ! " and leaving all, they fled; and when they had gone beyond the suburbs they looked back, and saw tongues of flame ascending from every house, wareroom, church, and factory, and streams of fire running from street to street. A cowering, shivering, and weeping throng of old men, women, and children stood together in the fields ; they knew not where to turn. All they had in the world was in Hampton ; all the precious things, endearing home memories, the sacred me- mentoes of the past, all that had been collected by a lifetime of toil, were swept from them in a mo- ment. Their lamentations were heart-rending. One lamented most the loss of the family pictures ; they could have given up all, if they had those beloved 130 DISTRESS OF THE PEOPLE. faces to look on and comfort tliem. Another mourned the destruction of the holy room where her mother had died, where she had kissed all her children and blessed them, and went up to God. Another wept the loss of the playthings of a beloved child ; an- other mourned, as the bitterest drop in this cup of woe, the vine which she had planted, which, as it wound around the summer bower, was the emblem of peace and love ; there her children had played and studied, but now they should never again scent the fragrance of their garden. Others wept because they had no home, and suddenly broken and scat- tered were all the hopes of their age. What a vision for the painter would have been that throng of weepers ; the darkness and the open fields behind them ; the light of their burning homes falling on their faces, and reflected in their tears ! What added to the distress of this hour was that, whichever way the eye turned, fire flashed on them; for the men sent for the execution of this infernal purpose, seized with a frenzy for destruction, set fire to every house and barn on the way as they re- treated, and for miles the flames flared up into the heavens, filling the imagination with all the images of terror. Thus were scattered the families who remained in Hampton, and the city wasjeft a ruined heap. After some days the grand army was collected in the green fields back of Hampton, and certainly there was never a more imposing and brilliant spec- tacle. The army consisted of not less than 120,000 men; the troops had been nine months in the field, A BRILLIANT SCENE. 131 in various places, and had become almost perfect in military movements and drill. At da^vn the bugles of a hundred camps awakened the soldier to another day; then followed the various bands, with lively notes welcoming the morning, and calling on us to come forth to the duties of the hour. We went forth from our tents, and the morn- ing was indescribably beautiful ; the abundant va- pors, and the presence of so many waters, imparted the richest splendor to the heavens ; the deep crim- son of the horizon melted into golden and emerald hues higher in the air, and the horses of the sun's chariot "pawed the twilight into flakes of fire," and then the sun came up to place a crown of gold on the head of every lofty tree of the forest. The beauty of the morning and evening in this region is more brilliant than I have seen elsewhere in the United States. The sky had the warm, mag- nificent glow of Italy and the Syrian valleys ; and as hue succeeded hue, and one glorious blush of splen- dor followed another, the spectator was lost in ad- miration, and knew not which most to admire, the many lights that had passed, or the beauty that re- mained. Wliile our encampments were here, the scene was most animating and novel. The presence of 100,000 men, who, from the early morning until the night, are under drill in the fields around, and in every direction one looked bodies of men, great and small, ^Yeve wheeling, halting, presenting arms, charging bayonets, receiving cavalry, with all the accuracy and precision of machinery, was a rare and wondrous spectacle. 132 DRILLING THE TROOPS. Here a brigade of cavalry, witli waving plumes and flashing sabres, dashed across the field. In another direction were all the movements peculiar to artillery practice. On the carriage bearing each piece were seated six men, and two on the horses, — four horses being attached to a carriage bearing a twelve-pounder, and six and eight to the carriages ~ bearing larger guns, and one rider to a pair of horses ; a carriage of equal weight, called a caisson, containing ammunition, following each gun. The horses were urged into the wildest gallop, as if rushing into action, wheeling around without the halt of a moment ; the men sprang from their seats and unlimbered the guns ; the horses were removed, and the gunners went through the pantomime show of loading and firing; and again the horses, with equal haste, were urged to the guns, attached in a second, and with furious speed rushed to another part of the field. Again the men sprang from their seats, the guns were detached, brought into posi- " on, and every man stood in his place like a statue, antil the command infused into each the energy of one who had only a moment to live. In another field a long line of three-fourths of a mile, kneeling on one knee, with presented bayonets, was a brigade waiting the dash of an enemy's cav- alry. Apparently fastened to the earth, motionless \ and silent, they reminded one of the armies sculp- tured on Egyptian monuments. In another field a brigade, with fixed bayonets, charged upon their enemies ; and over brake, and briar fence, and bog they ran with yells on the imaginary foe. The amusement of this spectacle DRILLING THE TROOPS. 133 was greater from the fright of the horses of the offi- cers, the wild leaps of fences and ditches, and the panting, sweltering fat officers bringing up the rear. In another field companies of scouts and skir- mishers were being drilled in the movements of that most dangerous but useful arm of the service, — the skirmishers, placed at the distance of fifty feet from each other, the one at the lower end of the line firing on the advancing foe, and rapidly retreating to the upper end, loading as he ran, and again the next in succession, until every man had changed his posi- tion. In another field a brigade that had landed but an hour before were casting their knapsacks on the ground, stacking their arms, and pitching their tents. And in every direction the eye looked, the roads were crowded with freshly arrived troops marching to their encampments, — a thousand ban- ners were unfurled, waving and fluttering in the breeze. In still another field long lines of horses and mules, stretching for miles, were being ridden and led to water, — the number of ambulances and wagons being not less than 6,000, and the horses and mules for the commissary and medical department alone not less than 65,000. Here hundreds of these ani- mals had broken away from their riders and drivers, and were dashing with fury through the tents of regiments and divisions ; and entangled in tent-ropes, they were kicking down the frail canvas, and send- ing forth the occupants the personification of rage a\iid terror. Here was a brainless soldier mounted on 12 134 GREAT BETHEL. one horse without a saddle, and leading four others by their halters, when the loose animals came career- ing past, his determined to join hi the frolic, and add another feature to the scene. Away they dash, through fields, over ditches, through encampments they whirl, kick, snort, renew the furious plunge ; the hat of the rider is left far in the rear, his face the picture of anguish, his hair streaming in the wind, his hands firmly grasped in the mane, his cries of "whoa, whoa, whoa," expressing his utter helplessness. At another point, the commander of the army, surrounded ^vith his one hundred and fifty aids, all riding upon the gayest and most brilliantly capari- soned horses, reminding one of the brilliant train of the Grand Sultan, increased the novelty, and to some the charm of the scene. The hum of such a multitude, the cries and shouts of thousands, bring to the ear of the listener the sound of many waters. Such were the never-to-be-forgotten spectacles of the grand army at Hampton. During the two weeks we were here, IS'ature was in her gentlest mood. The breath of spring filled the air with fra- grance, and enrobed every fruit-tree in blossoms ; we had but one storm after the landing. It was a de- lightful season of rest and enjoyment, preparing for the exertions and sacrifices of the future. We left Hampton on the 4th of April, and reached Great Bethel about two p. m. This was the scene of a dis- astrous battle, fought the 10th of June, 1861. In this fell the lamented Winthrop, as also the equally gifted Lieutenant Greble, both of whom were men* ROSE, DALE FARM. 135 of the Mghest promise. The position is undoubtedly a very strong one, a deep and impassable morass ex- tending above and below ; and at this point there is some flow and fall of the streams, and a rather bad ford. The hills above the creek, possibly forty feet higher than the water, were crowned with earthworks, and a long rifle-pit extending for miles. As we came near the place, the few troops left here fled towards Yorktown. When we crossed this stream we were in the enemy's land. Our troops had not before been over Bethel Creek. We en- camped the first night on the farm of Mr. Russel, at E-ose Dale. This we found one of the finest planta- tions in this region. Russel himself is a timid, soul- less man : having no white wife, he lives in the so- ciety of his negroes, and has some of the virtues and all the vices of a Turk. But he had a rare eye for beauty, for he had in his house some of the finest specimens of octoroon girls. Every man has some idiosyncrasy — this man's was that he would permit no one to open, or for an hour to occupy, the room of his mother ; everything must be kept as she had left it. Several of the officers, with myself, took tea at the house of a poor woman with a family of chil- dren, whose husband was in the Confederate Army. She assured us that none of the small farmers, me- chanics, and poor people, were in favor of the war, but they had been forced into the service. They could not flee the country, and if they refused to obey the conscription, they were thrown into prison and shot. She said that only the rich slaveholders were in favor of the war, but that her husband had 186 DESTITUTE FAMILIES. ever been opposed to it, and, from the time that he was compelled to leave home, he had constantly written and sent word that peace would soon he made ; and this hope made her bear up with cour- age. But now, when she saw our troops, all her fears were roused, and bitterly she wept and com- plained of the wrongs that had been done her. The sufferings of these poor, defenceless, and unprotected families were of a character to awaken the deepest pity : the land was swept of fences, grain, horses, and cattle, and everything they had raised during the summer. There was none to till the fields, and no means of protecting what the women and old men might have planted; and in the peninsula, dur- ing the summer, hundreds of families were destitute and in want. There was nothing left in the country on which they could live. In a fortnight after our march to Yorktown, I re- turned to Fortress Monroe ; and in riding through the country, stopped at the house of Russel to water my horse. He said that all his property was gone, and nothing remained for the support of his family of servants. We reached Yorktown on the afternoon of Satur- day, the 5th of April. The last ten miles of the road was a continued and unbroken swamp ; the road was corduroy, and over this for miles ran a river of mud, and along this wretched way stumbled horse and man : many sank down totally exhausted. We heard heavy cannonading long before reaching the open plains before Yorktown. General Por- ter's forces, and a portion of General Heintzleman's, were in the advance of us. Several batteries had THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 137 commenced firing on some of the redoubts of tlie enemy, and they briskly answered. If we had attacked Yorktown on that Saturday afternoon, there is no doubt we should have taken it ; for I conversed subsequently with several Con- federate officers who had been at the siege, and they all assured me that they had made their arrange- ments to abandon the town, and, accordingly, had sent away their^ families, servants, and camp furni- ture. They expected us to advance that Saturday afternoon, and carry the place by assault ; but when they found that we delayed, the officers and troops determined to make the most gallant defence. And soon they obtained large reinforcements, and received instructions to hold us before Yorktown as long as possible. On the Saturday of our arrival before the place, the rebel officers informed me that they had but 7,500 men for all the fortifications, but in a few days 50,000 were sent to aid in the defence. I have uniformly stated to my friends that our great defeat was before Yorktown, and not before Rich- mond. The long delay here, the exposure, fatigue, the fevers generated in the swamps, did more to dispirit the army and waste its strength than ^ve battles. The men lost that buoyancy and hopefulness with which they had left Hampton. We were thirty days before the place casting up intrenchments and erecting the various works ne cessary for a successful bombardment. Around the town are open fields of rich, fertile land, and on these good farm-houses : these placea 12* 138 THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. were abandoned and the families gone. But in these fields our troops did not remain more than three days, and, because exposed to shells from the enemy's batteries, were removed into the heavy forests around. The woodland was one vast bog, water lying in ponds and pools every few rods. During the thirty days of the siege, it rained and stormed twenty. Thunder-storms succeeded each other with marvel- lous rapidity, and day and night th-ere was a succes- sion of tempests, and the lightning in vividness and rapidity of discharge exceeded anything we had ever witnessed, reminding those familiar with India of the tempests of the rainy season in that country, as if the entire heavens had become one vast electrical battery. If our soldiers were on duty digging trenches, on the picket-line, or standing guard, they had to en- dure all the fury of the storm. If in camp, their tents were beaten down, or the water submerged their beds. If the night was fair, there were constant alarms along the entire line ; the men were called from their sleep to arms, and hurried, at double quick, to the outposts; here, heated and perspiring, they were made to lie down on the wet ground, and soon found themselves chilled to the heart; and on the next day returned to camp wearied and feverish. This was followed by an apathy that crept over the frame and brain like a paralysis, and in a few days there were developed all the symptoms of typhoid fever. And fortunate were those who had nothing to endure but the tortures of rheumatism. In a short time the sick in our hospitals were SEVERE TRIALS. 139 numbered by thousands, and many died so suddenly that the disease had all the aspect of a plague. Some divisions of the army were subjected to much severer labors than others. It might have been owing to the position they occupied, and the confidence reposed in their bravery. But it gave rise to serious and just complaint. 140 YORKTOWN. CHAPTER IX. Yorktown — Memorials of the Kevolution — Antiquities — Gene- ral Porter's Balloon Ascension and Discoveries — Colonel Sam- uel Black — His Character. Yorktown was of especial interest to us, because in that place and its immediate neighborliood are found many monuments of the most interesting event in our Revolutionary history. The divisions under Generals Kearney and Hooker encamped on the grounds where had been spread the tents of General "Washington and General Lafayette. We daily looked out upon the plain where had been witnessed the combats and struggles which compelled the final surrender of Yorktown to our forces. The old lines of intrenchment, and the mounds of redoubts, lie like a chain across the fields. The spot where the sword of Cornwallis was sur- rendered to General Washington, is marked by a stone on the roadside about half a mile to the south of the town. It lies in an open and beautiful field ; and as we stood there and looked over the scene, it required no efibrt of the imagination to bring up the great dead, and to become witnesses of one of those events which have left a lasting impression on the world. Prominent in that spectacle we could REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES. 141 see ttie great, majestic Washington receiving, with, tlie air of one who felt profound compassion for an honorable but humbled foe, the sword of Cornwal- lis. 'We could look upon the proud, stern brow of Tarleton, and see by his side the gloomy-faced offi- cers of the British army. Again we looked into the youthful and glowing face of Lafayette, rejoicing not over a fallen enemy, but in the victory of liberty. And alongside of him we summoned up the brave German Baron Steuben, and the courtly Count Rochambeau ; and there, gazing on the great spec- tacle, were many of the heroes of our Bevolutionaiy history, — Knox, J^elson, Clinton, Hamilton. Rarely has the world witnessed anything more impressive and sublime. From this hour opened the great day of our national life. This scene occurred on the 19th of October, 1781. One of the great actors of this time, to whom the country is most indebted for the final success of our arms, was General Thomas N'elson. He was born in Yorktown, and became one of the most popular leaders in the Revolutionary army. He commanded the militia of Virginia at the capture of Cornwallis. The kelson House still stands in Yorktown, even at this time exhibiting the impressions made by the shells of the American batteries when the place was held by the English. ITearer to this are found many interesting antiqui- ties. The ruined English church, one of the oldest on the continent, is surrounded with time-worn and venerable monuments. "No walk is more suggestive than one amid the ruins of this ancient sanctuary. With one of the monuments standing in this ground 142 INTERESTING MONUMENTS. I was deeply interested. It is quadrangular in form, and displays in its inscription the style and thought of the age. From angel faces on the upper end of the monument bursts the song, '•'All Crlory he to Grod." From another angel's trumpet flows the inscrip- tion: " Here lies the body of the Hon. William E'elson, late President of his Majesty's Council in this do- minion, in whom the love of man and the love of God so restrained and enforced each other, and so invigorated the mental powers in general, as not only to defend him from the vices and follies of his age and country, but also to render it a matter of difficult decision in what part of laudable conduct he most excelled; whether in the tender and en- dearing accomplishments of domestic life, or in the more arduous duties of a wider circuit ; whether as a neighbor, gentleman, or magistrate; whether in the graces of hospitality, charity, or piety. Reader, if you feel the spirit of that exalted order which as- pires to the felicity of conscious virtue, animated by those stimulating and divine admonitions, perform the task, and expect the distinction of a righteous man." "Obit. 19th Nov., Anno Domini 1772, cetatis 61." Another monument, of still greater antiquity, is found amid the ruins outside the walls. There are around it many broken slabs, and only this one inscription is legible. The flat stone is adorned with all the symbols of heraldry, and bears the words : A BALLOON ASCENSION. 148 "Major "William Gooch, of this parish, dyed Octob. 29th, 1655. "Within this tomb there doth interred lie No shape but substance, true nobility; Itself, though young in years, but twenty-nine, Yet graced with virtues, morall and divine. The Church from him did good participate, In counsell rare fit to adorn a State.'' ISTo place on our continent exhibits so strongly the evidences of having been often the scene of siege and battle. The crumbling walls, redoubts, and bastions all remind one of some of those ancient cities of the old world whose history runs back into the early shadows of time. On the morning of the 28th of April we were startled by the cry, " The balloon has broken away; there is a man in it." I ran to the door of the small house in which Dr. Eogers and myself had our quarters, and saw the balloon sailing over us in majestic style. The sun had not yet risen, — the morning was clear and bright, without a cloud. She rose higher and higher in the heavens, until the beams of the sun gilded her like gold. N'ow we saw plainly a man in the basket, and a cry came down to us, ''Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" One of our hospital nurses shouted back, "Pull the rope ! pull the rope ! " The man in the basket com- menced pulling up the rope which dangled below. Seeing this, the nurse again shouted, ''Pull the valve-rope above you ! " By this time the balloon had reached the height of six hundred feet, and was rapidly drifting towards Chesapeake Bay; and as 144 A BALLOON ASCENSION. she sailed along, Mgli above the world, was a beau- tiful spectacle. But as we looked after her with the deepest in- terest, we saw, greatly to our relief, that the balloon was descending to the earth, and approaching the tops of the trees, and in a few more seconds she was lost to our sight. Soon several officers dashed along in the direction the balloon had taken, and in the course of an hour they returned, bringing with them the general who had made the perilous reconnois- sance of that morning ; and from them we learned that General Fitz-John Porter had placed himself in the basket of the balloon very early, for the pur- pose of watching and judging of some of the move- ments of the enemy, — the morning was so clear, that there was more reason to expect a good view than one hour later. Wlien above the earth a few feet, the ropes, which had in some way been reached by the nitric acid, broke, and the balloon rose to a thousand feet, and reached a current of air which rapidly bore it out to the bay. But the pulling of the valve-rope caused the escape of the gas, and soon the balloon began to descend. About three miles beyond us it fell upon the Sibley tent of some officers who were seated at a table eating breakfast. Suddenly there was a crash, — the tent staggered, the ropes broke, the in- mates rushed out, and in a second the balloon and tent lay fluttering together ; and General Porter, as one who had descended from another world, stepped out in the presence of the officers, and without ex- changing words, or waiting for explanations, left the astonished men to their own conclusions. The J5 r' i i \ I COLONEL SAMUEL BLACK. 145 general was evidently greatly mortified, and hurried back to his tent, knowing well that the lofty ride of that morning would be the joke of the army for many a month. Daring the time of our encampment before York- town, I had an opportunity to renew my acquaintance with an old schoolmate. Colonel Samuel Black, in command of the 62d Pennsylvania Volunteers. At the breaking out of the rebellion he was Governor of l^ebraska. He had been, for fifteen years, a prominent politician of his native State, and was, more than most men, familiar with those secret springs which lie far back of every public move- ment. He was profoundly under the conviction, from the first development of the slaveholders' conspiracy, that if permitted to carry out their plans, they would dig the grave of liberty for the whole continent. As soon as possible he resigned his ofiice in the West, and hastened to Pittsburg. He was there im- mediately ofiered the command of one of the finest regiments ever raised in Western Pennsylvania, which he accepted, and soon after he joined the Army of the Potomac. We met, for the first time in many years, before Yorktown, and renewed the acquaintance of our boy- hood. He was at this time strictly temperate, from principle, and possibly from necessity, never drinking intoxicating liquors of any kind ; purely virtuous in all his sentiments, and never uttering, so far as I have heard, a profane word; generous and familiar with his men, always known as the soldier's friend ; strict in discipline, he had an almost unbounded in- fluence over the regiments in his immediate circle. 13 146 COLONEL SAMUEL BLACK. In my many conversations with, liim, I found no offi- cer having a more just appreciation of the causes generating this rebellion, or who could express so eloquently and philosophically the views he had been gradually forming for years, of the consequences which must follow from handing over the Govern- ment, bound hand and foot, to those whose views were essentially anti-republican. I was likewise impressed with the conviction that the colonel was not far from the kingdom of heaven. His conduct and expressions were those of one who felt his responsilbility to God, and who was deter- mined that his entire life for the future should be influenced by loftier aims than in the past. He ap- peared to me to have come at length fully under the religious impressions received from the example and teachings of his venerated father. But, alas ! while our plans are long, life is short. He fell at the head of his regiment at Mechanicsville, on the morning of the 27th of June, and his loss was amongst the greatest of that fatal day. If he had lived, there were before him the highest military and civil distinctions ; and few names of those who, from "Western Penn- sylvania, have died in battle, will be read in the his- tory to be written with deeper regret, than that one so gifted perished too early, not for his fame, but for his country. PREPARATIONS COMPLETED. 14T CHAPTER X. Retreat of the Enemy — The Torpedoes left in the Streets, and around Wells — The Sick left behind — The Hospitals created — Night Scene in the Forest — Captain "W. Brown. At length General McClellan, having completed all his plans for the bombardment of Yorktown, and having brought into position guns and mortars suffi- cient to throw sixty shells a minute into the place, the whole army waited with intense expectation for the opening of the grand spectacle. But here, as in many other instances, the fruit of many toils turned to ashes as we grasped it. In this, as in many other cases, when all our plans were defeated by some unforeseen event, was fore- shadowed the evident intention of Heaven to prolong this war until we were brought to look the great question at the basis of the controversy in the face. Our disasters and disappointments have educated the people, and disciplined us in patience, self-denial, and firmness. Having permitted our nation to fall into this sea of trouble. Divine Providence does not design that we should come forth from this baptism without a permanent impression being made on the national character. There were, doubtless, many evils and tendencies to the creation of greater in the license 148 NECESSITY OF THE WAR. of liberty we enjoyed. "We have but to study tbe lessons of history to learn that no great nation is reared in the lap of ease and peace. But those nations which have been raised up to give their institutions and laws to the world, were born in the midst of the convulsions of States, and reared in storms and dangers : their institutions, endeared to them by their fathers' and their own sacrifices, be- came a living people's life, and the best inheritance of their children. We needed some such calamity as the present war to break down the walls rising between States, and to sweep away, before a common national peril, all those sectional jealousies which divide us. We needed a long national trial, to make us wiser for all time, and to teach us the lesson that no great evil can be grafted on the trunk of a State without its poison being borne to every root and fibre ; and that an evil principle left embodied in the laws and con- stitution of a State will burn like a cancer, and con- sume like a leprosy. "Well and truly does the Hon. F. P. Stanton dis- course on this theme : "After the close of the war, when men look back to its bloody fields and awful sacrifices, they will be amazed at the insane folly which permitted them to consider the great American Union, with its honor- able history, its wonderful progress, its immense power^ and its proud standing amongst the nations, as a mere league between petty States, to be dis- solved at pleasure ; as a thing to be broken into fragments, and to be divided amongst ambitious as- pirants, to be made the sport of domestic faction,