SIX MONTHS ON THE PENINSULA.
 ~+~ 
INCIDENTS AN5 SCENES
OS THE
Battle-Fields and in! Richmond.

By Rev. J. J. MARKS, D.D.

FOURTH EDITION.
CcJl fel5 PHILADELPHIA:
a+ EL UmMCGTT A CO-

BATTLE OF GLENDALE— CONTEST AROUND GENERAL McCALL'S CANNON. Chap. XY1U.

THE

PENINSULAE

CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA,

INCIDENTS AND SCENES

THE BATTLE-FIELDS AND IN RICHMOND.

Eev. J. J. MARKS, D.D.

FOUBTE EEITI01T

PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1864.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tbe year 1863, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
in tbe Clerk's Office of tbe District Court of tbe United States for tbe Eastern District
of Pennsylvania.

c

¦annul Small, isq.f

OF TORE, PENNSYLVANIA,

THIS WORK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,

AS A MARK. OF ESTEEM AND AFFECTION FOR ONE WHO DESERVES THE
HIGHEST PLACE IN THF. REGARDS OF THE AUTHOR FOR MANY
ACTS OF FRIENDSHIP AND HOSPITALITY SHOWN HIM WHEN
\ 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, DISAELF.D
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 effort 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 sufferings. 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)

vl 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
effort 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  „  Paqe ix
CHAPTER I.
Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many Virginia
Families — Fairfax Seminary — Bishop Meade  21
CHAPTER It.
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 tho Army — Personal Influence of Officers  28
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  53
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
(vii)

VU1 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
The Slaves — Their Condition — Story of Hanson Yerly  89
CHAPTER VII.
Embarkation for the Peninsula — Fortress Monroe — Early Discoveries
— Description ofthe 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  15g
CHAPTER XII.
Second Visit to Yorktown — Scene iu the Prison — Hunt for the Army
on Return — Crossing the Chickahominy — Sick at Baltimore Cross
roads — Interview with General Kearney — Letter from'the General... 170
CHAPTER XIII.
Battle of Fair 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. LX
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 29(A.
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  238
CHAPTER XVII.
Monday Morning, June 30(A.
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 Officer, Captain Taylor, of
New Kent  258
CHAPTER XVIII.
Mondat, June ZQth.
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 — Tho Scene — The Imposing Grandeur
ofthe Spectacle — Commencement of the Action — Consternation and
Panic of the Confederates — Scene at the Hospital  288

£ CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XX.
Thursday, July 3d.
Report of Dr. Skelton from the Battle-field— Visit to the Sick at White
Oak Swamp— Visit to the Battle-field of Glendale— Condition ofthe
Confederate Army — Nolan, the Singer — Lonely Night Ride  302
CHAPTE.R 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 tho 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 aud his Song
— Scene at the DepSt, July 16th — Feeding the Hungry — German
Charity  391
CHAPTER XXV.
Suffering in Prison — Captain Decerning — Death of Adjutant Gaither—
Heroism of Warburton — Haversack of the Dead Soldier — Deathless
Love — Sergeant Abbey  415
CHAPTER XXVI.
The continuance of Scenes in Libby Prison — Orders to depart from
Richmond — Scenes on Saturday Morning — Petersburg — Major Ker
— Conversation al the Depot — 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

INTRODUCTION.

" 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 Peninsnla, 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 tlie 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
haps 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, perhaps 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 Government 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)

Xll INTRODUCTION.
pens depict. And it may be remarked, too, that 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 ofthe friends ofthe victims
with more awful and grief-bearing effect than would have been
the case had the news been brought to thei i that their relatives
had died on the field, while nobly fighting against the enemies
of the " good old fla<i," which has, for over eighty years past

INTRODUCTION. Xlll
over all the world, been recognized as the emblem of free
dom, and is even now the ensign of the noblest nation of the
earth ; enshrouded, it is true, in the darkening, damning palls
of civil war, yet looked upon, revered, and respected by the
people of all other 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 Government in the speedy and successful
prosecution, of the war, 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 neglect, 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 INTRODUCTION.
weakened by exposure to severe storms, and the dangerous
miasmas of the swamps, and brought down to the hospitaLby
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 all
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 havp

INTRODUCTION. XV
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 soldiers,
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 House.
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 afforded 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, knowino- 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 they at that time afforded to our sick and

INTRODUCTION. X?ll
wounded, yet, by the fiat of those in power, they have been
interdicted from so doing. The reason for this may be 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

Xviii INTRODUCTION.
hitherto, to travel in the right path so far as we have. It
must be conceded at all times, however, that errors winked 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
Government or its officials (whether in times of war or peace),
simply because they are the derelictions or indiscretions of
the Government 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 tear is over," is now being
used, whenever any one has the frankness to point out errors
or indiscretions in the conduct of any department 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 author

INTRODUCTION. XIX
all will be compelled to acknowledge that the 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
partment, 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 blood," 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
Gospel 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.
JulylZd, 1863.

INCIDENTS AND SCENES

OF THE

PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN.

CHAPTER I.
Early Camp-life — Dr. John Crawford — Memorials of many
Virginia 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 regime'htal 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 affectionate, leaning, probably, too
much for happiness on his friends. Pew men had
a keener relish for society, and fewer still could im
part so much genuine enjoyment. Noble 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
But if our loss was great, who can conceive the
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. In 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 National 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 THEBLIGHTOFWAR.
guished citizens, spread the network of Virginia's
influence over the 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 written 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 Northern
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. 25
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 conflicts 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, buffeted 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
3

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, North
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

BISHOP MEABK. 27
glory and the shame 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 GEORGEMASON.

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 three
weeks, we were transferred to the command of
Major-General 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 o-em
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

GE0RGEMAS0N. 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 by 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 North.
He drew up in the Convention the celebrated bill
for the expulsion of all Northern men from the
State. He was known as an ardent advocate of all
the doctrines 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 GEORGEMASON.
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 veiy 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

MILITARY DISCIPLINE. 31
camp-life ; and military discipline gradually cur
tailed personal liberty, but with a wisdom which I
shall always admire. Colonel Hays (now General
Hays) did not suddenly place on the necks of the
soldiers the iron yoke of military 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 fafl. 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
soldier 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 the 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 superior
to this man. With a tall, noble person, as com
manding in look as Julius Csesar, 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 offer 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. Not more than thirty
years of age, her countenance had lost none of the

34 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 veiy
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 New 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 five 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. 35
by the company cooks to each mess. The break
fast was generally camp crackers, called "Hard
Tack," coffee 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 THE DRUM -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 ofthe 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

DRESS PARADE. 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 promotions.
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

38 THE DAILY REPORTS.
enough 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. Nearly
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 Medes 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 self
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 suffered 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 officers 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,
carried from one hospital to another, forgotten as
the dead, and dropped out of the memoiy of his
companions. Many officers, as they ascend in rank in the ser-

INHUMANITY OF OFFICERS. 41
vice, divest themselves of all human 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. No 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.
Li 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 own safety.

CHANGE OF OFFICERS. 43
I have known companies in regiments which,
in the earlier Peninsular engagements, never stood
firm; but subsequently, by change of officers, be
came the best and most unfaltering of heroes.
Nothing 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 Offi
cers — The Tendencies of Military Law.
I had been the 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 Northern
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 New 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 officers, 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 his 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 piety 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. 47
is his, but can be crowded out of all the 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 fixed 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 countiy, — 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
Bervice is such an immense expense to the Govern
ment, why not make it efficient, — prescribing what

48 MILITARY LAW.
the 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 soiil, 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 whom fear is unknown, 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 the 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." Nothing 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 ministiy 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 the other officers ; by making
all the 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 hana:s 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 United 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 the camp, bor
row for him the ferocious spurs of the quartermas
ter, mount him on the chaplain's horse, send him
with the mail-bag ; 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-

OS CHAPLAINS INVALUABLE.
zation of the chaplain service, which 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 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.
For the encouragement 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

54 BENEFIT OF A LIBRARY.
nutriment and amusement, 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 the 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
1862, 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 Rev.
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 Ave 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. Now 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 society. 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

5li TENT FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP.
offered for sale in a neighboring camp. This I
immediately purchased; and before night had it
pitched, a floor laid down, and a stove placed
in it.
Thus, 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
benefit 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; ofthe

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 promises
they had made. They had never known 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 were 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 theymightfind
some relief from conscious degradation in the ex-

58 THE SOLDIER AND HIS MOTHER.
citemeuts 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 manliness 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 off my sins.
Oh, my mother, I thank God yon do not know how

EVENING SERVICE. 59
low I have 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 effect 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 everything 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 murmuring and discontent of the camp passed

60 FORMATION 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 off 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 invariably that there were some events, e cenes

SPIRITUAL INQUIRIES. 61
and instructions which 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 thoi^htless 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 IN CAMP.
of visitation made me acquainted with the peculiari
ties and past history 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 wilderness, 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 affecting 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. It

COMMUNION IN CAMP. 63
was a day never to be forgotten, as a commencement
of a new era in the life of many. It was a scene on
which angels might look down with unmingled
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 ; 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. 00d 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 LETTER OF MANSFIELD BROWN.
" I stepped into a tent in which were five young
men, Sabbath 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 his 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 V.
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 M0UNTVERN0N.
forests have been cut down, and on the 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 iu 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 with nature.
Mount Vernon 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
Vernon over desolated fields, through low and
shaggy woods ; but at length the road reaches the
summit of the hills embosoming the Mount Vernon
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 Vernon made asrain nt-
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 Country. Of the Washington familv

PURCHASE OF MOUNT VERNON. 69
no descendants now remain on the Mount Vernon
estate, or in the neighborhood.
The estate of John A. Washington is a part of the
original Mount Vernon 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 forpublic entertainment, and proposed
to inaugurate eveiy 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. Li 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 New 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. This letter was
written but a few months before his death.
The thousand 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 SURROUNDINGS 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
man told me that he 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
poor 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.
"What 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.
Washington, 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 house and property of the Lewis family
were sold twenty years ago to John Mason, Esq., who
now resides in the house 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 suffered, 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. Nearly 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. After a
most adventurous life as a sailor, merchant, and
captain of a trading vessel, he at length settled in
Virginia 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 QUAKER 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 New Jersey
came to this State many years since, and purchased
a large portion 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.
While 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 when 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 Vernon. About six miles from its mouth the
Richmond road from Alexandria 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 (rave the
men a greater taste for battle. The enemy, from
their perfect acquaintance with the countiy 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. Li 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 suffering from
cold, sickness, and nakedness : the women in tears,
and the children wan with hunger.
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 five
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 off 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-
7*

78 THE PICKET-LINE.
fied, sent the prisoner to the head-quarters of the
major-general. 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. H 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 fire ? "
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, was
challenged by a picket, and in his haste threw up
his gun, as if about to rush on his challenger. The
picket fired, and poor Gardiner lived but half an
hour. He was from one ofthe 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. 79

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 !
"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.
'•'All 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 off 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
administered 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 effect 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 five 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 five 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 Leland, 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 illustrious 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 Richmond
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
ington. I designed to perform 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 when I ap
proached the house, and found no o'ne 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 ii» 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 the 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-
Tied 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 foreshadowing 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 Jefferson
and Madison.
In this same neighborhood, about three miles
from Mount Vernon, 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 was distinguished
amongst the early founders of our Government,
lived and died. He was one of the signers of the

GEORGE MASON. 87
Declaration of Independence, and a member of
Congress for many years.
His son, George Mason, was reared to his 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 lily,

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:

Js

"Brandy, Brandy, bane of life,
Source of evil, cause of strife,
If men could half thy vices tell,
They would wish 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.
No 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 will be found always reflecting the
manners, conversation, and opinions of his master.
Hence, one middle-aged negro will assume the grave,
pompous manner ofthe 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 eyes
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.
mission. 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 with 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'S STORY.
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's story. 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'S STORY.
such a multitude of ladies, so beautifully dressed^ eo
gay and happy : to look upon their 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 young mistress was severe, and never
satisfied with the slaves ; and from being the hap
piest and most contented of people, Ave 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
affection 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 HANSON' S STORY.
were gone. Their sons were bad men, fought duels,
drank, gambled, and were cruel to their slaves.
" When I had been married four or five years, a
trader came from North 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 having 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, widows with estates they could not
manage, — all now began to talk of selling slaves.
" From this commenced a great trouble amongst
us — 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 but 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 negro 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 gone
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. No, it was the sale of
our fathers and mothers, our children and brothers.
It was the dreadful misery of those days when they

100 HANSON'S STORY.
were lying in the slave-pen, that made us cease to
love them.
"Very soon it was found, as the 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-servant 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 passed 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 you
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 different 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 had intended to use in
aiding me on my way to liberty. During all this
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 boon 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 became fully dark, I turned my face
towards the North, 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 liberty,
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 couhi not
endure it; and I wandered without purpose, until

HANSON'S STORY. 105
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 children. 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 smart, 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 veiy bitter. I thought of the hundreds
I had made for master, and I had nothing; and I

104 HANSON'S STORY.
could expect 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
difficulty, 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.'
' Oh ! ' 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
hedged 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 know, 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 off 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. 0 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 be free; your master spoke to
me of it on his death-bed, and I promised him to
see you, and propose a way by 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 daughter, 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 North 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 five
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 was

HANSON'S STORY. 109
married, and the 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, ' 0 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,
' 0 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, 0 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 weight, " 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 the 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. When, 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. In the
fields, on the left, were many batteries. Here, still
further to the left, stretching from the hills to the

112 THE E M B A R K A T I 0 N .
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 wras 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 Fortress 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 unpitying 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 nAMPTON. 113
Very fortunately, but few vessels could reach 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 sufferings of that night; but there were
those who heard of our distress, and pitied us.
The 16th Regiment 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. When 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 Newport, 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 Smith, a
man of rare genius and military ability. Newport

HAMPTON ROADS. 115
had intended to land on Roanoke 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 North 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 27£ feet. From
Chesapeake Bay to Yorktown, a distance of 30 miles,
the depth is 33£ 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 safetv,

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 Nile.
Five rivers converge their streams, and pour their
waters 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 New 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 difficulties 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 New 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 ATast as
semblage of waters seeking the sea, the heavens
hazy, the dews veiy 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 chase 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 richest 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 offer-
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 Northern 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 flee 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 the 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 River as the base of our operations,
was simply caused by the terror the Merrimac had
excited. If the army could have been landed at Newport
News, 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 MERRIMAC.
by our fleet, all the supplies ofthe 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 Norfolk. 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 off Newport News, 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.
Li 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 effective 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 General Wool talked despondingly of
the 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, proffered 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, cariying 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 Newport News.
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 ofthe 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 ofthe bay, wore

THE MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 123
crowded with those who looked with pale and anx
ious faces for the Merrimac. The shore itself was
crowded by 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 tho 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 Newport News. Now could be seen coming out
fro'm 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-

J 24 THE MERRIMAC AND MONITOR.
ter of gazers to another. As the 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 off 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. Now commenced the most exciting
part of the spectacle ; each now began to seek the

VICTORY OF THE MONITOR. 126
weakest point of the other, aiming by eveiy 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 Avas beyond language to ex
press, — a multitude shouted for j oy, and tears flowed
down many manly faces.
The contest was still maintained, though the Mer
rimac commenced retiring towards Norfolk, 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 and
stopped, and one of the most remarkable contests
in history was ended.
It is said by many that the Merrimac returned to
Norfolk 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 VIIL
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 them. 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 eveiy 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 was left 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 dawn 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. While 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,
were 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, with 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
tion, and eveiy man stood in his place like a statue,
until 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
avid 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 in 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 with 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 Ave Avere here, Nature was in her gentlest
mood. The breath of spring filled the air Avith fra
grance, and enrobed eveiy fruit-tree in blossoms; Ave
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 Avas 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 mer.

ROSE DALE FARM. 135
of the highest 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, Avere 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
Rose Dale. This we found one of the finest planta
tions in this region. Russel himself is a timid, soul
less man : having no white Avife, 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 ofthe officers, vrith myself, took tea
at the house of a poor woman Avith 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

136 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 be
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 Avas 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 countiy
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 Avater
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 SAvamp ; 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 the
enemy, and they briskly ansAvered.
If we had attacked YorktoAvn on that Saturday
afternoon, there is no doubt Ave 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 five battles.
The men lost that buoyancy and hopefulness vrith
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 toAvn are open fields of rich, fertile
land, and on these good farm-houses : these places
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 eveiy 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 there 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 Avere 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 Avere constant alarms
along the entire line ; the men Avere 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 Avet 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 Avho 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 ofthe Revolution— 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 neighborhood are
found many monuments ofthe 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 Avitnessed
the combats and struggles Avhich 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 toAvn. It lies in an open and beautiful field ;
and as we stood there and looked over the scene, it
required no effort of the imagination to bring up
the great dead, and to become witnesses of one of
those events Avhich have left a lasting impression on
the world. Prominent in that spectacle we could

REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES. 141
see the great, majestic Washington receiving, with
the 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 gloAving 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 Revolutionary
history, — Knox, Nelson, 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 Nelson. 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 Nelson 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.
Nearer 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 ofthe 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 Q-lory be. to Grod."
From another angel's trumpet Aoavs the inscrip
tion: " Here lies the body of the Hon. William Nelson,
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 Avhat part of laudable conduct
he most excelled ; Avhether 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 Avhich 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, wtatis 61."
Another monument, of still greater antiquity, is
found amid the ruins outside the Avails. There are
around it many broken slabs, and only this one
inscription is legible. The flat stone is adorned
Avith all the symbols of heraldry, and bears the
Avords :

A BALLOON ASCENSION. 143
"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."
No place on our continent exhibits so strongly
the evidences of having been often the scene of siege
and battle. The crumbling Avails, 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. Rogers and myself had our
quarters, and saw the balloon sailing over us in
majestic style. The sun had not yet risen, — the
morning Avas clear and bright, without a cloud.
She rose higher and higher in the heavens, until the
beams of the sun gilded her like gold. Now we saAV
plainly a man in the basket, and a cry came down
to us, "Oh, Avhat shall I do! Avhat 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, high 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
Avas 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. When 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 OAvn conclusions. The

oHO a

O H

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.
During the time of our encampment before York-
toAvn, 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 Nebraska. 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 office in the
West, and hastened to Pittsburg. He was there im
mediately offered 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 Avith him, I found no Offi
cer haAdng 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
Avhich 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 Avas not far from the kingdom of heaven.
His conduct and expressions were those of one who
felt his responsibility 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 ciAdl distinctions ;
and few names of those Avho, 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. 147

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 Ave grasped it.
In this, as in many other cases, when all our plans
were defeated by some unforeseen event, Avas fore
shadowed the evident intention of Heaven to prolong
this war until we Avere 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
Ave 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 Ave enjoyed. We have but to study the
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 doAvn the Avails rising between States, and
to sweep aAvay, before a common national peril, all
those sectional jealousies Avhich divide us. We
needed a long national trial, to make us Aviser 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 Avill 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, Avhen 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, Avith 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, or

EVACUATION OF YORKTOWN. ' 149
of foreign rapacity and domination, changing its
form and proportions with every change of popular
feeling, and every restless movement of popular dis
content. These fatal delusions will disappear for-
eA'er, and in their place will remain, in the minds of
men, the image of a majestic government tried in
the furnace of civil war, made solid and immovable
by its grand and successful efforts to resist the
threatened overthroAV of its power.
" Then, with the aAve and fear which will be in
spired by the tremendous energy put forth to con
quer the rebellion, — an energy which will appear
only so much the greater and more imposing in pro
portion to the difficulties and dangers met and over
come, — there Avill be mingled the better sentiments
of love and veneration for a government Avhich re
establishes order, secures protection to civil rights,
and restores unimpaired the liberties which have
been disregarded for a time in order that they
might be permanently saved. To the people of the
United States the Union will be Avhat it never Avas
before, and what it never could have been without
the sad experience it is now undergoing."
On the nights of the 3d and 4th of May, the enemy
evacuated Yorktown and their lines on tho Warwick
River. But, in order the more effectually to deceive
us and to conceal their movements, the firing from
their batteries was never so intense and active as on
the nights when their entire force was retiring.
Nothing could be more grand than the cannonad
ing of' Saturday night. The atmosphere Avas in a
condition eminently favorable for conveying and pro
longing the sound. And as one great gun folloAved

150 TORPEDOES.
another, it rolled like mighty thunder over bay, and
field, and forest, and echo mingled with echo, and
peal answered to peal. The night, the thousand
flashes, the trembling of the earth, the stupendous
crash, all combined to give an awful sublimity to
the hour. But during these nights the Confederates
vanished. On Sunday, the 4th of May, at daybreak,
our men in the rifle-pits found there Avas no foe before
them ; and cautiously creeping up to the very lines
of the enemy, it soon became certain that all were
gone, and Avith them had fled our hope of a brilliant
Aictory. Soon our entire army was summoned to
the pursuit, and before noon Avas marching through
the renowned intrenchments of Yorktown.
The enemy had planted torpedoes in the roads,
around Avells and springs, and near the great guns,
which, concealed beneath the ground, the capped
nipple coming to the surface, were exploded by the
slightest touch. Several of our men were killed in
the streets and intrenchments by these deadly mis
siles. They even concealed them in green spots where
soldiers would be likely to sit down to rest.
In one case that I heard of, a soldier, taking his
seat Avith his companions on a green knoll, near to
a well, saw lying at his feet a pocket-knife. As he
picked this up he found around it a small cord ; with
out thinking of the concealed danger, he gave the
knife a sudden jerk to break the cord. This was
followed by an explosion which bleAv the soldier into
a hundred fragments. Thus, those who entered into
Yorktown, and remained any time, were exposed to
peril at every step.
Tbe prisoners Avho had been taken were imme-

SUFFERINGS OF THE SICK. 151
diately put to work in unearthing the concealed
shells ; and no doubt for years to come, among the
wonders of Yorktown Avill be brought to light the
torpedoes hidden in the streets. This method of
Avarfare is undoubtedly savage and brutal, and can
only react Avith terrible power on those Avho take
such infernal means to destroy their foes.
We left our encampments on Sunday morning at
eleven o'clock, and before noon the entire army was
in pursuit of the enemy. We Avere, however, com
pelled to leave behind the sick in our hospitals ; these
were to be removed, at as early a day as possible, to
YorktoAvn. I was ordered to remain, to assist in
creating hospitals in Yorktown, and superintend
the removing of the sick and AArounded of the 63d
Pennsylvania, one hundred and five in number.
My principal work had been for several weeks in
the hospitals. We had connected with our division,
General Kearney's, from five to six hundred sick
men. The obtaining supplies for these of sanitary
stores and clothes, and the attending to their spirit
ual necessities by daily Ansitations and prayers in
each of the tents, fully occupied me. And when the
army started in pursuit of the enemy, all the sur
geons of our division, except Dr. Heighhold, of the
105th Pennsylvania, Avere ordered to join the regi
ments. We Avere thus left behind, without ambu
lances or wagons of any description, to remove our
sick into Yorktown as best we could. The suffering
at this time was such as I fully believe is endured
nowhere but in an army. Hundreds of men tossing
and burning with fever Avere left in camps in the
forests, in old houses by the roadside, and in barns,

152 SICK LEFT BEHIND.
with sick men as their attendants ; and that they did
not all perish is, indeed, almost miraculous.
The commissary stores being removed, more than
half of those sick men kneAv not where to turn for
supplies, the advance of the great army having left
everything confused and disjointed in its rear. One
of those night scenes I can never forget. There
came up a violent thunder-storm on Sabbath after
noon : the tempest continued through that night
until Monday night. During this time, Dr. Heigh-
hold and myself Avere fully occupied Avith the sick
men left in and around the Baptist church on the
Hampton road. I was not aAvare that any men had
been left in the camp unable to follow the army,
having understood from Dr. Rogers, our brigade sur
geon, that the disabled were to be conveyed from
the various camps to the hospitals. I therefore sup
posed that all had been brought in. On Tuesday
afternoon I Avas startled by the intelligence that
thirty sick men had been left in our encampment in
the forest without nurse or surgeon, and that some
of these had staggered to head-quarters and made
complaint, and begged for food and medicines. The
camp was in the deep forest. The Avagons for the
removal of the commissary stores, tents, etc., etc., of
the army, had cut the roads through the SAvamp of
this forest into a condition beggaring description.
Even a horse AATith a single rider Avould become im-
bogged in roots and mud, so as to render his escape
perilous or impossible. And if one endeaA^ored to
escape from these roads and turned into the Avoods,
the undergrowth was so thick that it was impossible
to proceed more than a feAv feet ; but if he bravely-

BAD ROADS. 153
breasted the sweeping branches, and tore his hands
with thorns and briars, there yawned before him one
of those dismal sloughs of uncertain depth, where
snakes, lizards, and small crocodiles welcomed him ;
and from the terrors of the swamp the horseman was
compelled to return to the horrors of the road. As
soon as the nature of the case permitted, I went
down to the camp, found the men as reported to me,
some of them very ill. I immediately rode to the
head-quarters of General McClellan, and found some
of the surgeons still there, and some ambulances.
At my request, three of the ambulances were sent to
assist in bringing up the men unable to walk.
It was dark before we reached the edge of the
forest, and even by daylight its entangled mazes were
threaded with the utmost difficulty; but at night
even an Indian would have been at fault. Soon the
ambulances were fast in a morass, the horses kick
ing and plunging in the wrappings of thorny vines,
and not a road or camp-fire opened before us in the
dismal jungle. But fortunately there was a lantern
in one of the ambulances, — this was lighted, and
I set forth on a voyage of discovery. I was soon
knee deep in water, but went on sounding the
swamp, until I became satisfied that a few steps fur
ther might eventuate in my sudden departure from
the Army of the Potomac. I then crawled upon a
rotten stump, clinging to vines, swinging from root
to root, and from stump to stump, now on a crumb
ling log, now clambering amid the brushy branches
of a fallen tree. I found my way across the pond,
and when I reached firmer ground I shouted aloud,
-hoping, the men in the camp might hear me, know

154 CAPTAIN AVILLIAM BR0AVN.
my voice, and come forth and ansAver. The drivers
of the ambulance shouted back. I found my way
around the waters, until I became satisfied who it
was that replied to me, and then set forth anew.
After exploring the circumference of many sloughs,
trying the strength of a thousand vines, disturb
ing innumerable lizards, and wandering I knew not
Iioav long — for anxiety to attain the end I was in
pursuit of, left me Avithout any idea of time — after
many calls and shoutings, there Avas heard a voice
in reply. This Avas one of our sick men, Avho heard
me, and was answering. I soon reached them,
and noAv arose a new difficulty. The sickest men
were not able to walk, and they must be removed
that night, while we had the ambulances, for to
morrow these would be gone. We therefore took
them up in our arms, having called all who were
able to give the slightest assistance ; and staggering,
sometimes falling, often halting to shout and dis
cover the position of the ambulances, working our
way along paths that mock description, we had at
length the satisfaction of hearing the response to our
calls; and before midnight the cases requiring im
mediate attention were safe in the hospitals, but
some of them never to go forth again.
Amongst those left behind us at Yorktown, on the
adA^ance of the army, were Captain William Brown
and Lieutenant Anderson of the 63d, and Lieutenant
PoAvers of the 105th Pennsylvania. These officers
were under my care until their removal to other
places. On the 6th of May the parents of Captain
BroAvn came from Pittsburg to take their son Avith
them, if possible. After consultation Avith many

LIEUTENANT ANDERSON. 155
physicians, and taking the best advice possible, his
removal Avas deemed expedient, if pot best for his
recovery. He bore the trip to Fortress Monroe well,
and rather improved on the steamer to Baltimore, and
everything gave hope that he Avas recovering. The
party reached Harrisburg on Saturday night, and re
solved to remain for rest over Sabbath. Here the
most unfavorable symptoms returned, and on the
folloAving Wednesday night he died.
Thus was taken away from us one of the most
promising young men in the army. Singularly pure
and correct in morals, kind and generous in spirit,
conscientious in duty, the most affectionate of sons,
his death was felt as a great loss by his company,
and irreparable to his parents.
Lieutenant Anderson never recovered his strength,
but after a return to his regiment for a few days he
was again compelled to enter a hospital, and ulti
mately was borne home to Western Pennsylvania
to die.

156 A HEAVY STORM.

CHAPTER XI.
Battle of Williamsburg — Attack of Hooker — Bravery of Kear
ney — The Dead Soldier in the Road — Williamsburg — Its
Historic Monuments — William and Mary College — A Ne
gro compelled to Dig his own Grave — A Conversation with
a Duellist.
The enemy had retreated from YorktoAvn to Wil
liamsburg, a distance of fifteen miles. On the
highway leading from one town to the other, for
many miles we passed through the abandoned en
campments of the enemy. Their destitution of all
the comforts of the camp was manifest, — without
tents, they had dug holes in the ground for shelter,
constructed Aallages and cities of booths, boughs of
trees being woven together, affording a protection
from the sunshine and the Avind, but giving little
from the rain. The road was filled with broken
wagons, abandoned ambulances, and all the debris
of a retreating army.
A very heavy rain-storm fell on us during the
night of the 4th, — this had to be endured as best
Ave could. On the following day, the 5th, the storm
continued Avith even greater violence, until- the
Avagons of the army, containing commissary stores
and ammunition, sank so deeply in the mud, that
for miles the whole army train remained motionless,
and it became impossible to move forward our snp-

BATTLE OF AVILLIAMSBURG. 157
plies. About two o'clock in the afternoon of Mon
day, a very heavy cannonading commenced in our
front, about two miles east of Williamsburg. Gene
ral Hooker, leading the advance, found the enemy
posted at Lee's Mill. After a feAv minutes' engage
ment they retreated, falling back into the forest.
General Hooker advanced, and found the enemy
more strongly posted. Now commenced the action
of Williamsburg. We had to pass over a narrow
strip of land, — on either side were creeks, and their
flats and swamps, and between these marshes was a
narrow neck of land, along which Ave were compelled
to march, in order to reach the open fields in front
of Williamsburg.
Fort Magruder, constructed by the enemy, com
manded this road, — hence the fierceness and long
continuance of the battle, our army having to de
bouch from so narrow a way. The enemy brought
up 15,000 or 20,000 men to oppose Hooker's division
of not more than 8,000 or 9,000. This general here
exhibited that pluck and indomitable courage which
have since won for him the highest position in the
American Army. For hours he resisted the over-
Avhelming odds, and held his ovvn. It remains one
of the mysteries yet to be explained why he Avas not
reinforced in the early part of the engagement, —
Avhy was he left to struggle alone ? As soon as pos
sible, however, Kearney and Heintzleman pushed
forward to his support; and now Kearney per
formed one of those brilliant feats which made him
the model soldier of his division. In order to dis
close to his troops the concealed position of the
enemy, and to exhaust their fire, he announced his
14

158 RETREAT OF THE REBELS.
determination to ride in front of the enemy's lines.
Surrounded by his aids and officers he dashed out
into the open field, and as if on parade, leisurely
galloped along the entire front. Five thousand guns
Avere pointed at him, the balls fell around him like
hail, two of his aids dropped dead at his side, and
before he reached the end he was almost alone. He
secured by this hazardous exploit what he aimed to
accomplish, the uncovering of the enemy's position,
— then riding back amongst his men he shouted,
"You see, my boys, where to fire!" His forces
held their own until Hancock, by a flank movement,
compelled the retreat of the enemy within their
works. All the soldiers and officers of this portion of the
army not only spoke of Hooker and Kearney as dis
playing, on that day, the most brilliant soldierly
qualities, but likewise commended in the highest
terms the coolness, discrimination, and courage of
General Heintzleman.
During the night of the 5th the enemy left
their works, and commenced their retreat toAvards
Richmond, carrying Avith them most of their guns,
and abandoning but few by the Avay. But that
night in the history of the Army of the Potomac is
never forgotten by the soldier. After many hours
of ceaseless marching and battle, they found them
selves, having been run at double-quick many miles,
exposed to a most unpitying storm, standing in
many places knee deep in the water, without food
and without fire, and all night under arms. They
remember this as the hour of the greatest suffering
in the Peninsular campaign.

AFFECTING INCIDENT. 159
On the folloAving morning our army marched
through Williamsburg. I have often heard our sol
diers speak of the ghastliness of the spectacle, as
they saw along the road, and over the field of battle,
hundreds of dead streAvn in every direction, tram
pled on, mangled, half-buried in mud; great num
bers of Avounded still lying on the field, beckoning
Avith the hand, and pleading AAath piteous moans for
help ; hundreds of dead and dying horses lay scattered
through the field ; while broken carriages and aban
doned guns added another feature to the scene.
And here was one of those never-to-be-forgotten
things which a soldier bears in his heart as the me
mentoes of battle, — lying in the road, Avith up
turned face, as if gazing into the heavens, Avas a
dead soldier, the lower half of his body buried in
mud. The storm of the night had washed his face ;
it Avas strikingly beautiful, like that of a lovely
woman ; a smile as of the sweetest peace lingered
on the face of death. That calm, angel-like expres
sion in such a scene struck every passing soldier
with wonder. Hundreds stopped and looked, —
many said that he died dreaming of his mother, that
his last moments were cheered by the presence of
angels. I have heard many soldiers speak of this as
one of the most affecting incidents of battle.
I have before said that I was not with the army
at the time of our advance on Williamsburg, but re
mained in charge of the sick, and to see to their re
moval from the hospitals in the field to Yorktown.
When this work was completed, on the 12th of May,
I started in pursuit of the army, and on the evening
of that day reached Williamsburg. This I found to

160 WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE.
be one of the most interesting towns in Virginia.
Captain John Smith laid the foundation of James
town in the year 1607 ; and this was, for upwards of
eighty years, the centre of influence and authority
in the colony. But in the year 1697 the principal
officers of the government removed to Williamsburg,
Avhich is four miles from JamestoAvn. Of JamestoAvn
nothing now remains but the tower of an ancient
church, and some broken Avails. Williamsburg was
chosen as the capital of the colony on account of the
greater healthfulness of the atmosphere. It contains
some of the most interesting historic monuments in
the State ; amongst others the college of William
and Mary. This institution was founded by King
William and his Queen Mary, and endowed by them
Avith a thousand acres of land, Avith duties on fur and
skins, and one penny per pound on all tobacco ex
ported from Maryland and Virginia. What adds to
the interest of this institution is, that many of the
most distinguished of Virginia's sons, such as Wash
ington, Patrick Henry, Jefferson, and Madison, were
educated within its walls. The building itself, and
many ancient monuments about it, and houses of
the olden style, give to the place a peculiarly Eng
lish aspect. On a beautiful square fronting the col
lege stands the statue of Lord Botetourts, one ofthe
colonial governors ; and though considerably muti
lated, it still presents a fine specimen of sculpture.
He appears in the flowing robe of his day, with a
short sword by his side. The inscription on the
pedestal of the monument reads :
" The Right Honorable Norborne Berkley, Baron
de Botetourts, His Majesty's late Lieutenant and

THE OLD CAPITOL. 161
Governor-general of the Colony and Dominion of
Virginia. Deeply impressed Avith the warmest sense
of gratitude for his excellencies, prudent and wise
administration, and that the remembrance of those
many public and social A'irtues which so eminently
adorned his illustrious character might be transmit
ted to posterity, the General Assembly of Virginia,
on the 20th day of July, Anno Domini 1771, re
solved, with one united Aroice, to erect this statue to
his Lordship's memory. Let Avisdom and justice
preside in any country, and the people must and will
be happy."
Of the old capitol in which Patrick Henry began
his brilliant career as the great orator of Virginia,
nothing now remains but a few scattered bricks. It
was in this same building that Washington, after
closing his career in the French and Indian War,
was complimented by the Speaker of the House of
Burgesses for his valor, and for the honor he had
conferred upon his native State. Stammering and
confused, Washington stood in the presence of the
venerable aristocracy, and was greatly relieved by
the adroit exclamation of the Speaker: "Sit down,
Mr. Washington ; your modesty is equal to your
valor, and that surpasses the power of any language
that I possess."
The first newspaper published in Virginia was
issued at Williamsburg, in the year 1736. It was a
sheet twelve inches long and six inches wide. This
was continued until the commencement of the Revo
lution. In the year 1671, Sir William Berkley, the Gov
ernor of Virginia, thanked God that there Avere no
14*

162 THE OLD ENGLISH CHURCH
free schools and piinting presses in Virginia, and
hoped that these should not be known for a hundred
years to come ; and, accordingly, put down the first
printing press established in that State, which was
in the year 1682.
Of the old State House nothing now remains. It
Avas accidentally burnt at the close of the Revolution.
Amongst the most interesting monuments of the
past, I found the old English church, where lie en
tombed many of the early governors, judges, and mili
tary captains who lived and died prior to the Revolu
tion. This church had been occupied as an hospital ;
the seats torn up, and beds, cots, and stretchers ex
tended over the whole building ; and across the floor
in every direction had run streams of blood. Into this
had been gathered, after the battle of Williamsburg,
great numbers of the Avounded and dying of the
rebel army: outside of the church, on the grounds
amidst the monuments and tents, the Avounded had
all been placed, and eveiy spot was baptized with
blood, and even on the Avhite slabs were the traces
of human suffering. Those that survived the first
feAv days Avere removed by our surgeons and officers
to the college and other buildings of the city.
In this graveyard and the church are some of the
most ancient monuments seen in the State. One of
them, a slab in the Avail ofthe church, struck me as
being peculiarly rich, and therefore I transcribed it.
"Near this monument lies the body of the Honor
able David Parke, of ye County of Essex, Esq?, Avho
avhs of the magistrates of the county, eleven years,
and sometime Secretary of the dominion of Virginia.
He dyed ye 6th of March, Anno Domini 1679. His

THE CONFEDERATE AVOUNDED. 163
other felecityes weare croAvned by his happy mar-
ridge with Rebecca, the daughter of George Evelyn,
of the co. of Surry, Esq. She dyed ye 2nd day of
Jan., Anno 1672, at Long Diton, co. Surry, and left
behind her a most hopeful progeny."
There were great numbers of Confederate officers
and soldiers lying in the college and in the churches
of the city. Our oavu wounded men, except those
whose condition forbade the hope of recovery, were
generally removed, having been taken to Yorktown
and Fortress Monroe. But from motives of human
ity many of the Confederate wounded were permit
ted to remain by our government, their negroes at
tending them, and very often being nursed by their
mothers and sisters. The majority of the wounded
were from South Carolina and Alabama. I received
here the impression, which subsequent events con
firmed, that the troops from Alabama were amongst
the bravest and most humane in the Confederate
Army. I found one Herculean specimen of the South
west, a non-commissioned officer, in the college hos
pital, attending a wounded and dying brother. This
brother, shot through the lungs, he had borne in his
arms from the field of battle, and rather than leaAre
him had become a prisoner. As soon as he found
that I was a clergyman, he begged me Avith tears to
go to the side of the Avounded man, prepare him to
die, and pray Avith him. I did so, and received very
satisfactory replies from the dying brother, and found
that it was no new thing for him to think of God and
the destiny of his soul. At his own request I prayed
with him, and he urged me to return to him during

164 HUMANITY OF UNION TROOPS.
that day. The gratitude of his attending brother
to our surgeons and officers was unbounded. He
said he knew not how he could ever lift his gun
against us again.
In other wards of the college, I saw many officers
and soldiers of the Confederate Army, attended
mostly by our surgeons and nurses ; and they uni
formly expressed their astonishment at the generos
ity and humanity with which they were treated. I
could not but contrast, subsequently, the cruel treat
ment and close confinement of our surgeons when
taken prison ers,with the full license of activity and en-
joyment given to the Rebel surgeons when prisoners
at Williamsburg. They were permitted to go where
they pleased within our lines: to wander without
restraint in the streets : they boarded wherever they
wished, kept their servants and horses, and nothing
was withheld from them that Avas thought to be essen
tial for the comfort and recovery of their Avounded.
I heard of not a single case of inhumanity ; they
had full liberty of speech ; and the secession ladies
of Williamsburg treated our soldiers and officers
with indecent rudeness, and yet there was no utter
ance on our part of violence or revenge. I heard of
but one act of brutal violence, inflicted on a widoAV
and her daughter by a colored servant of one of the
New York regiments. When caught, he was com
pelled to dig his own grave, and was shot while
kneeling in it.
The scenes described to me by eye-witnesses of
the departure of many families from Williamsburg,
when they became aware of the retreat of their
army from YorktoAvn, Avere deeply affecting, and

FLIGHT FROM WILLIAMSBURG. 165
worthy of the pencil of the painter. Families with
out horses or carriages, impelled by the fear of one
or two members of the household, arose and fled to
the streets, and were seen in scattered groups all
along the highways. The young helping the aged,
mothers and fathers bearing little children in their
arms, the elder children carrying little bundles of
such things as they could bear, and the slaves un-
Avillingly assisting in the flight. Where carriages or
wagons could be obtained, they were busily filled
with the things that were thought to be most useful,
and in the wildest haste they hurried out of the
place to a spot of imagined safety.
Old persons were seen in the way, who, having
been conducted by their slaves a short distance, were
abandoned ; and mothers and children fled until dark
ness and weariness arrested them. Maiiy of them
expected that our soldiers Avould perpetrate the
greatest outrages, and commit murder in every
house they entered. One lady, the Avife of a Rebel
officer at Williamsburg, who had spent years in the
North, exerted all her influence to inducejthe citizens
of Williamsburg to remain in their homes, assuring
them "that she much more feared their soldiers than
the Yankees ; " telling them that she was not afraid
to ride alone through the entire Federal Army.
These assurances influenced many of the more re
spectable families to remain, but probably more than
one-half of the inhabitants fled.
The city of Williamsburg itself, with its old aristo
cratic dwellings and antique structure, its public
buildings, its English look, Avith its houses embow
ered with Amines and roses, is one of the most charm-

166 DEATH OF COLONEL WILSON.
ing places in the Old Dominion. The country around
it is in a high state of cultivation, and very beautiful,
strikingly in contrast Avith the dismal regions through
Avhich we passed coming from Yorktown. I delayed
longer at Williamsburg on account of the danger
attending travel in the van of our army. Guerilla
bands swarmed along the roads, ready to shoot down,
without a moment's warning, any unprotected offi
cers or soldiers. I left on Wednesday morning, the
14th of May, and travelled along the road leading
to New Kent and Richmond. I went in connection
with a large train of ambulances of SedgAviek's divi^
sion of the army, which were ordered to follow our
forces and pick up the wounded and sick that might
be found by the Avay. This day we traA-elled over a
country much superior to any part of the Peninsula
I had yet seen, except a tract of land lying around
Hampton and Williamsburg. Most of the families
had fled from their homes, and their houses were
occupied with our sick men, who had dropped out
of the ranks by the Avay. At these houses we inva
riably halted, and removed our disabled soldiers to
the ambulances. In one of these houses was lying
Colonel Wilson, of Beaver, Pennsyhrania, very ill
with typhoid fever. The family of this house, how
ever, had remained and Avere very kind, rendering
it unnecessary and certainly inexpedient to remove
him. Two weeks subsequent to this he died, an
officer of much merit and true patriotism.
I had as my companion in travel Doctor B., of
New York, a very young man, who, from one of the
most aristocratic families, was now enduring the
severest trials and dangers of the army. He had

THE DUELLIST. 167
been partially educated in Europe, and had spent
three or four years in a German university. Our
conversations of the day brought out the fact, that
though so young there had been bitter passages in
his life.
"Do you think, doctor," said he, "that it is ever
right to kill a man, except in self-defence ? "
"Yes," I replied, "if he is the enemy of your
country, and as such appearing on the field of battle,
he forfeits his life."
"But," said he, "is it. right to Mil a man that
slanders you, insults you, and takes every means to
lead to a quarrel, that he may shoot you? "
"No," I replied, "the law of the Great Master is,
' Resist not evil, but whosover shall smite thee on
thy right cheek, turn to him the other also,' ' Love
your enemies,' 'Bless them that curse you,' 'Do good
to them that hate you.'"
"Well," said he, "that law may do very well for
men like you, but if not in fact, in thought and feel
ing, it is constantly violated by the world. I feel more
interested in this, because I was so unfortunate as to
have myself a duel in Germany. The man was a
miserable brute, and far exceeded me in strength,
and took every measure in his power to Mil me or
drive me from the University as a coward and a
spotted man. I fought with and killed him, and my
conscience has never troubled me for the act, and I
would certainly do it again. I repeat every Sabbath
morning, as I go to church with my mother, the
prayer of the Episcopal service, ' 0 Lord ! have mercy
upon us, miserable sinners ; ' and amongst all my
sins that rise up at such an hour, that does not ap-

168 DUELLING UNJUSTIFIABLE.
pear. I regret that I had to kill the scoundrel, but
it was his fault, and not mine. He had made up
his mind to take my life, and God helped me to
take his ; he went to his own place, and I am in
mine ; and I hope I AviU be no less faithful to my
country, no less honorable and virtuous, because I
was so unfortunate as to kill a bad man in a duel."
I replied to this : "The man whom you shot, doc
tor, was undoubtedly one of those gross, cruel
monsters whom we often meet, but whom, vile as
they are, God permits to live ; and I do not think
that any insult can justify you in taking the life of
a fellow-creature. You know that our passions
oftentimes blind our reason, and silence our con
sciences ; and because you feel no remorse, you
ought not, therefore, to rest assured that God does
not hold you guilty of that man's blood. No doubt,
at some point in the controversy you greatly sinned,
and will find, in review of the Avhole case, and more
especially as you summon up the principles that
then governed your life, that you have reason to use
the penitent petition of David : ' 0 Lord ! deliver
me from blood-guiltiness.'"
"Well," said the doctor, heaving a deep sigh, "I
have not felt it yet, but if it is necessary that I should,
I hope I shall before I die."
Here the conversation on this point ended, and
Ave soon found it necessary to shelter ourselves hi a
house by the roadside from a violent thunder-storm ;
and here we found an old lady and her son, the only
occupants, with the old story of negroes gone, horses
stolen, fences burnt, and cattle driven away.
We reached New Kent Court House about dark.

NEW CUMBERLAND. 169
The storm continued for many days, until the roads
became impassable ; and at every movement we made
we had to halt for hours, until the pioneers covered
the entire road with the trunks of trees. We en
camped, after leaving New Kent, for some days on the
Pamunky, at New Cumberland, about ten miles from
the White House. From New Cumberland the whole
army marched to Baltimore Cross-roads. Here we
halted and encamped, waiting for the falling of the
streams, the bringing up of supplies, and the repair
ing of the York River railroad.

15

170 SECOND VISIT TO YORKTOWN.

CHAPTER XII.
Second Visit to Yorktown — Scene in the Prison — Hunt for the
Army on Return — Crossing the Chickahominy — Sick at Bal
timore Cross-roads — Interview with General Kearney — Let
ter from the General.
While we were in camp at New Cumberland, on
the Pamunky, Colonel Hays resolved to send me
back to Yorktown to report the state of the sick
men whom we had left behind, and to bring up such
as were fit for duty. I went doAvn in a Government
steamer, and found, when I reached Yorktown, that
the mortality had been far less, from the serious
character of their sickness, than I had been led to
apprehend. The sick in the Army of the Potomac, at this
time, was certainly not less than 15,000 men ; the
Avounded in battle were not fewer than 1,500. Of
the sick and disabled, between 5,000 and 6,000 had
been brought into Yorktown ; the others were taken
to Fortress Monroe and NeAvport News. Even be
fore leaving Yorktown some of our regiments had
suffered incredibly from sickness ; and in the ad
vance on Williamsburg some had left half, and often
tAvo-thirds, of their members behind in the hospitals.
The surgeon of the 92d New York Regiment, Dr.
Mansfield, to whom many thousands of the sick of
the army are under the deepest sense of gratitude,

SANITARY MEASURES. 171
told me that his regiment left the city of Albany, on
the 1st of March, 1862, 850 strong, and now it could
bring into the field only 196 men. I found that
wherever there had been causes in the regiments to
dishearten the men, from the loss of officers, or the
tibsence of discipline, they were much more liable
to sickness than in those regiments where the spirit
ofthe officers infused life and unity into the whole.
There had been wrought, during my absence from
YorktoAvn, a very great improvement; the streets
had been cleaned, the rubbish burned, the pools
drained, the houses whitewashed, and a great num
ber of contrabands were constantly at work to clear
away everything calculated to generate disease. The
presence of such a Avise and active officer as General
Van Vleit was manifest in eveiy department. The
sick had been kindly and assiduously tended by such
surgeons as Drs.Greenleaf, Mansfield,Heighhold, and
Munson. Miss Dix was likewise there, ministering
with a thousand charities to the relief of those whom
many pitied, but few could reach. I found that
some whom I had left apparently dying had so far
recovered as to be out of danger.
During the time that I was there, there occurred
one of those singular things attending the breaking
up of society by war. Passing by the old jail of
YorirtOAvn, I heard the plaintive wail of many Alices
singing as in some funeral serAdce. I saw standing
at the vrindows a group of officers and soldiers look
ing in and listening. As I approached, the throng
made way for me, and I drew near the iron-barred
window and looked through. Within I saw forty
or fifty negroes, me*", women, and children, some

172 SCENE IN YORKTOWN JAIL.
leaning against the walls, others crouching, and
others seated on the floor. All were united in sing
ing one of the hymns Avhich belong to the sacred
literature of the negro. The leader of the company,
a man about forty, perfectly black, gave out the
hymn, Avhich he sang in a plaintive minor, until all
voices joined in a full, generous swell on the chorus.
In all the slave assemblies for worship I discovered
that though the leader might be a young man, he
always assumed the tremulous tones of an old patri
arch, — the solemn plaintiveness of age entering into
all the negro's conceptions of eloquence and piety.
With a richness of melody I had never heard ex
celled, they sang their celebrated hymn :
"0! I want to die, and go home to heaven
In the morning."
This brought up vividly to me some aged African,
going forth from his cabin in the morning, listening to
the thousand melodies of field and forest, scenting the
fragrance of nature, looking with admiring eyes on
the myriad gems and diamonds glittering on grass
and leaf, seeing the glow and beauty of the heavens,
and feeling the sunshine falling into his face as
if gently kissing him, — in such a scene lifting his
eyes to heaven, and turning into song the medita
tions of the moment :
"I long to go to heaven in the morning.''
Heaven, as an endless morning; Avhere the flowers
would ever breathe out their odors of sweetness;
where the sun would never smite him ; where the
glory and beauty would neA'erfade; where he should

SCENE IN YORKTOWN JAIL. 173
be young again, the eye bright, the hand strong, and
the knee never tremble; where he should ever join
in the chorus :
" Oh ! it is the morning of the Lord !
It is the morning of the Lord ! " *
After this song was sung, they all kneeled on the
floor, — the leader prayed in language which ap
peared to have been very intelligible to his fellow
slaves, for it brought forth a multitude of cries of
"Hosanna! Praise the Lord!" and many were the
tears that rolled down those sable faces. Often in this
prayer the meaning was lost in the strangest and
most incongruous association of Scripture phrases
and scraps of hymns. After the prayer was over I
spoke to the leader, and asked him why they were
in prison, what crime they had been guilty of? He
told me they had been guilty of no crime ; that they
were charged with shooting our pickets; "but,"
said he, "massa, it not us."
I then inquired further, and learned from the offi
cers near me that some of our men had been shot on
the roads and in the forests between Yorktown and
Williamsburg; that some white men had directed
the attention of our officers to these negroes ; and in
the houses they occupied were found some broken
swords, shattered guns, and bayonets. These slaves
had been left behind by their masters on plantations
near to Williamsburg, on York River, — and after
the battle of Williamsburg the soldiers of our army
had gone to their huts to purchase milk and butter,
* Appendix.
15*

.174 SCENE IN YORKTOAVN JAIL.
and had advised these almost naked negroes to go
forth into the battle-field and pick up the shovels,
blankets, and overcoats which had been thrown
away, and also to gather up the abandoned muskets,
Avhich might at some future day be valuable to them.
The negroes, guided by the soldiers, went into the
field, and collected various articles ; and without
knowing how to load or shoot a gun, having never
sho$ one in their lives, some malicious persons had
suspicion directed to them; their houses Avere
searched, and guns found ; hence their transfer, until
the circumstances could be investigated, to the jail
at YorktoAvn. And here the poor, ignorant crea
tures, thinking that they had no defenders, and con
cluding that some morning they would all be led
forth to be shot or hung, were maMng deliberate
preparations to die.
I assured them that, if innocent, they had no rea
son to fear ; that our officers Avould be as just and
as merciful to them as to white men. " But," said
I, " is it possible that you could be guilty of so great
a crime as shooting our men, when they had never
done you any harm, and Avere your friends ? "
"No, massa," they all exclaimed together, "no,
no, massa, Ave no tell which end ob de gun bullet go
out ; no shoot a thing as big as massa's big barn ;
massa neber allow shoot gun, or carry knife, 'scept
one broken blade. No, massa, de oberseers dey kill
your men ; they lie in bush to shoot de soldier."
I then assured them that, if innocent, they Avould
soon be acquitted, and sent back to their homes.
They smiled and looked cheerful for a moment, but
the gravity soon returned ; and feeling " dat white

THE AVHITE HOUSE. 175
man bery uncertain," and that they had better make
use of the day given them, they recommenced their
hymns, and poured forth more prayers for peace in
death. What became of them I never learned ; but
they Avere, doubtless, acquitted, or I should have
heard of their condemnation.
When I returned from Yorktown I found that the
army had removed from Cumberland Landing to
Baltimore Cross-roads, about eight miles from Cum
berland, and five miles from the White House. I
landed at the White House, and found more than a
hundred vessels, transports, and steamers lying in
the river at this place. No one who is not familiar
Avith a great army can have any conception of the
vastness of the expenditure of labor essential to
feed it.
The White House, standing on the elevation of
fifty feet above the waters, is of especial interest, be
cause the property of the Rebel General Lee. It
has likeAvise some romantic interest. Here General
Washington met, in the year 1758, Mrs. Custis, Avho
afterwards became his wife.
I landed at the White House, on my return from
Yorktown, under the impression that our entire
army was in the immediate neighborhood. Here I
learned that General McClellan had removed his
head-quarters four miles on the Mechanicsville road
towards Richmond; and after maMng diligent in
quiry of a thousand persons, I could learn nothing
definite or satisfactory in regard to the position of
General Kearney's division. I went to various dis
tinguished officers, and received from them the most
contradictory "beliefs" as to Avhere was pitched the

176 THE SICK HUNGARIAN.
head-quarters of General Heintzleman's army corps.
KnoAving the danger of plunging out into a great
army, and that I might go to and fro Avith as much
uncertainty of finding my division as has a wander
ing Arab in the desert in search of his tribe, I re
solved to go to General McClellan's head-quarters ;
but arrived just in season to see the general and his
staff depart for Mechanicsville. I determined to fol
low, and after reaching head-quarters, learned of
General Williams that General Kearney was upon
the left Aving of the army at Baltimore Cross-roads,
and would cross the Chickahominy at Bottom Bridge,
and that I was fully fifteen miles from my regiment,
And here I may pause for a moment to bear testi
mony to the uniform courtesy of this excellent offi
cer, who bore into the army and never lost the ur
banity of a true gentleman, and the patient Mndness
of a Christian.
I found shelter for the night in a farm-house ; as
usual, there was a weeping woman, whose husband
Avas in the Rebel army, Avith half a dozen small chil
dren, a home Avithout comforts, and negroes all gone.
In the same house lay sick a Hungarian captain of
General Sykes's division, who had been brought in
during the day very ill with a fever ; and far away
from his native country, he recounted to me the bat
tles he had fought for liberty in his own land ; and
he expressed his great fear that he might die in a
hospital, and not have the honor of meeting death
on the field of battle. He had all the air of a man
of gentle blood, and was evidently of superior cul
ture. Having devoted his life to the cause of liberty
in the whole world, when driven out of Hungary

CROSSING THE CHICKAHOMINY. 177
he drew Ms sword in defence of those principles
wMch he had been educated to revere.
I satisfied myself, wMle here with the right wing
of the army, that there was far less sickness amongst
these regiments than in those of the left Aving.
There came up before dark one of those tropical
thunder-storms which cause almost all the soldiers
to remember the Peninsula as a land of flood and
fire. On the folloAving day, after long and weary
wanderings, and being lost innumerable times in
swamp and jungle, I reached General Kearney's
division at Baltimore Cross-roads, and found the
army in motion towards the CMekahominy. On the
following Sunday we crossed this river at Bottom
Bridge. This renowned stream, in most places, has
scarcely any perceptible flow, but spreads itself out
in Avide swamps, and flows around innumerable isl
ands, but here and there is contracted into a stream
from fifty to seventy yards Avide. The country
through which we passed had many very fine farms
and magnificent dwelling-houses ; and these, gener
ally abandoned, were in the course of a little while
filled Avith the sick of the army. Some of the most
aristocratic families in Virginia had their homes in
tWs section of the Peninsula. The fields were cov
ered Avith excellent wheat, now in full head, the corn
was knee high, and the fruits were ripening on some
trees in the orchards. But in the progress of the
army the fences were all broken down and con
sumed, — a single night of encampment converted
beautiful plantations into a desert.
The lands beyond the Chickahominy were poor,
and more exhausted than any we had passed over.

178. EXHAUSTED LANDS.
The general aspect of the country was that of a land
wMch, by poor cultivation, had been worn out, and
was finally abandoned to the pine, the briar, and the
stunted oak. It is a peculiarity of that part of Vir
ginia over wMch the Army of the Potomac passed,
that the pine comes up abundantly on all the ex
hausted fields, and soon overshadows them, so that
a ray of fight seldom penetrates the gloom. This is
the effort of Nature to restore what man has de^
stroyed. The pine and the cedar are rarely found
in the original forests of Virginia, but spring up in
consequence of the abstraction, by tobacco, of certain
vital elements in the soil, and these can only be re
stored under the leafy shadow ; and therefore Provi
dence plants the million pines which Mndly shelter
and enrich what man has impoverished. Thus is
frequently seen in Virginia on one side of the road
the original forest, extending many miles without a
single pine-tree, and on the other side a heavy forest
of dark evergreens, in which not a single tree of any
other description is permitted to grow. This is ac
counted for on the principle I have mentioned, —
the pine covers the exhausted fields of a former
generation. We reached the banks of the Chickahominy on
Saturday morning, the 24th of May; and Avhile our
men were standing in an open, muddy field, waiting
for the order to advance, there came upon us one of
those thunder-storms which deluge the Peninsula,
and turn the entire country into a vast swamp.
The army was ordered, on Sunday morning, to
advance beyond the river. We had expected that
the enemy Avould aAvait us in strongly intrenched

A PERILOUS JOURNEY. 179
positions on the heights beyond the bottom of the
river ; but on our advance they removed their guns,
and retired to Richmond. The order for striking
our tents came to us very early on Sabbath morn
ing. As it was evident that we could not have any
religious services, I went to Colonel Hays and re
quested permission to ride back to Baltimore Cross
roads, a distance of ten miles, and report the con
dition of the sick men whom we had left there. This
was most cheerfully granted. On my way I had to
pass by the head-quarters of General Kearney. He
Avas standing at the door of the house he occupied.
I saluted him.
"Where, chaplain, where?"
" To the rear, general, to see after the sick men
we left behind."
The sternness of his face relaxed in a moment.
He advanced a step. "All right, sir, all right, call
and report to me on your return."
I boAved, and rode on. Previously to this time I had
had no acquaintance Avith the general. I could not
tell how he knew me to be a chaplain, except from
the peculiar clerical gravity of my horse, which never
so lost his dignity as to put on any war-horse pranc-
ings or curvetings, but who preferred a quiet and
even tenor, and frequent friendly halts for greetings
by the way.
The perils of this journey are incredible to one
who has not been on the Chickahominy at this sea
son. The nature ofthe country, the narrowness ofthe
causeways, and the density of the forests, compelled
the army to move over the roads, however bad. The
bogs, sloughs, and sluggish streams had been covered

180 AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION.
with logs and branches of trees, but these had been
torn up and throAvn into all the bristling positions
of a chevaux-de-frise by our heavy wagons and artil
lery. In some places, as far as the eye could reach
there Avas an endless succession of horrors. Here a
great gully lay directly across our way, and invited
us to fathom its unknown depths. On the left a
broken wagon, Avhose fore-wheels had entirely disap
peared, gave us warning that there were no sound
ings in that neighborhood; on the right a dead
horse standing upright amid the roots of a stump,
the mud covering all the back part of his body, told
us of the dangers there. In the bog before us there
were various objects, so encased in mud that it was
impossible to tell what they were, — they might be
logs of Avood, heads of horses, feet of mules, or bodies
of men.
After an incredible struggle my panting, trem
bling horse stood with his fore-feet on the slippery
bank, and his hind parts gradually sinking out of
sight. There was great danger that he would be
added to the monuments of that scene ; I encouraged
him to another effort, and after two or three falls on
his knees he reached the top of the bank. Before
us now stretched a long river of mud ; the timber
used in corduroying was afloat, and rolled beneath
the feet of my horse ; sometimes he would fall be
tween these, and then there Avas the greatest danger.
Dead horses and mules were lying, some half buried
and others floating, every few rods. One poor horse
was still alive, so covered with mud that his color could
not be told ; he had fallen doAvn, and unable to go
further, had been shot bv his brutal driver. The

CARE OF THE SICK. 181
blood was trickling down from the wound in his
head, and staining the mud ; but his sufferings had
not extinguished the gnawings of hunger, for the
poor animal was biting little pieces of the bark of a
tree beside him. A little further on a sutler's wagon
had been engulfed, the goods throAvn out, and they
were in such a condition that no one stopped to
pick up the sweet cakes, tobacco, and cheese. All
the debris of an army was there, broken boxes of
crackers, abandoned tents, ambulances, and wagons.
After passing through these heavy forests, I
emerged into the green fields at Baltimore Cross
roads. At all the houses for miles around, and in
the barns and stables, had been left our sick men.
As yet there was no provision made for sending
the sick of the army to the White House. I rode
to the place where I saw tents in the field, and
learned that the sick were to be gathered from all
these places and sent to a particular house. On re
pairing to this house I found a young surgeon, having
under his care some three or four hundred patients.
The men were extremely despondent, the place was
lonely and out of the way, the army having gone, and
they felt like those abandoned on a desert island.
The hospital was in one of the large country houses,
surrounded by a great number of outhouses, built
without any definite plan. In these houses, and in
tents and barns, were lying the sick, in all stages of
disease. During the day all those who had been scat
tered over miles were gathered in. I returned the
same day a part of the way, taking the long bridge
road, which carried me almost to the pickets of the
enemy, but I escaped the dangers of the army road.
16

182 RETURN TO CAMP.
The following morning I reached our encampment
beyond the Chickahominy, and was gratified to learn
that we were within ten miles of Richmond. I could
not find the head-quarters of General Kearney, and
therefore reported to General Jamison the condition
of the sick of his brigade left behind, and requested
that he would take measures to send back nurses
and hospital stores.
Very soon after General Jamison rode to the head
quarters of General Kearney, and reported to him
my statement. In a few moments an orderly came
into our camp, bearing a request from General Kear
ney " that Chaplain Marks should report himself at
his tent." I confess I rode to his head-quarters with
many misgivings, for I had not reported, as com
manded, to the general himself. When I came up
to his tent door, I was ushered into his presence by
an orderly, — his face was frowning.
"How is it, sir," said he, "that you did not report
to me in person?"
"Excuse me, general," I said, "I did not think
my report of sufficient consequence to authorize me
to trouble you Avith it ; and I designed, as soon as I
could find your head-quarters, to report to you in
person ; but in the meantime meeting General Jami
son, I reported to him the condition of the sick in
his brigade."
"Well," said he, "you reported that sick men in
my division were lying in the woods and in tents> a
long distance from any house, Avithout any medical
attendance or nurses, and no one had looked after
them since we left: is that so, sir?"
"Yes, sir."

INTERVIEW AVITH GEN. KEARNEY. 183
"Why, sir, did you bring back a report so calcu
lated to demoralize and dishearten the army ? "
"I reported to none but General Jamison, and
that with the purpose of having sent back to them
medicines, nurses, and hospital supplies, and, if it
Avas best, to go back myself."
"Well, sir, why did you not remain there, and
bring in all those sick men ? how did you dare to
come, away and leave them ? "
" Sir," I replied, "I saw the last man brought in
before I left ; every man from the fields and woods
was in the hospital."
"Well, sir," relaxing a little, "you must obey
orders. Say nothing about this in camp, chaplain :
everything relating to my sick men touches my
heart. I '11 have occasion for you again. Chaplain,
now go ; but hereafter obey orders."
I bowed and left the tent. From that hour Gen
eral Kearney was my warmest friend, and invariably
treated me Avith the greatest kindness.
On the next morning I received an order from the
general regularly detailing me to take charge of such
sick in the hospitals as had to be removed to the
White House, and to take measures to obtain for
them in all the hospitals such sanitary stores as could
be reached.
The expectation began to be universal, that at the
very first hour possible an advance would be ordered,
and therefore preparations were made to send away
all the sick in the hospitals on the field ; and on the
Monday previous to the battle of Fair Oaks the
order came doAvn from head-quarters to move all
the sick of the camp-hospitals to the White House.

184 SUFFERINGS OF THE SICK.
The arrangement was made to send the sick of
Kearney's and Hooker's divisions to Meadow Sta
tion, about one mile east of Savage Station. The
surgeons were generally satisfied with seeing the
sick placed in the ambulances, and sent with them
no nurses and often no food. They were brought
to the station, and placed upon the porticoes and
under cover of the building : a great number arrived,
and soon under every green tree were lying sick
men. Many of these were in the delirium of fever,
giving commands, standing guard, marching on the
enemy, and talMng to their friends at home. Others
were apparently in the last stages of sicMiess. Many
were constantly crying for water, many begging for
medicines, and others beseeching me to write to
their friends. To all these it was necessary, in vari
ous Avays, to give attention. The porticoes around
the station Avere from four to six feet above the
ground; and there had to be a constant care lest the
trembling, staggering men, or those tossing Avith
fever, should fall and be seriously injured. We had
expected to be taken from this place in two or three
hours, but the cars on this road were in such demand
to transport troops, ammunition, and forage, that the
conductors refused to halt long enough to place the
sick men on board. Hence we remained two days at
this station. The sufferings of the men the first
feAv hours after their removal were very great ; the
fatigue, the joltings on' the rough roads, the anxiety,
all increased their miseries, and caused many to pray
for death.
In the course of two days Ave had them all removed
to the White House. At this place, in one of the

HOSPITAL ON THE PAMUNKY. 185
great fields, was pitched a city of hospital tents. The
location of these was most ill-advised ; for the ground
was swampy, the water lying much of the time upon
the surface. Many of the tents Avere without floors,
and the men suffered much from dampness. This
locality was the more inexcusable, for there was an
excellent position for the tents around the White
House : here the grounds were high, well drained,
and covered Avith grass, and the whole surface pro
tected by shade-trees. No more genial and delight
ful spot could be selected near the Pamunky than
the grounds around General Lee's house. But for
some unexplained reason a boggy field was chosen
for the hospital tents, and guards were stationed at
every gate of the White House, allowing no one to
enter the premises.
In one of these journeys from hospital to hospital
I came across a garden near an abandoned farm
house, not far from Dispatch Station, and discovered
under the shadow of the evergreens, in the now open
ground, several fresh graves. These were of sol
diers who had died of fever ; and their companions
had marked on a neat board, put to the head of
each, his name, regiment, and time of death; and
sometimes the words which followed were : " He
died in hope;" "He rests in peace;" "He sleeps
until a better morning;" "He fell asleep far from
home, but in the Lord."
About this time I received the following letter
from General Kearney, which I introduce here as an
illustration of his watchful interest and care for the
sick of his division, expressing as it does sentiments
16*

186 LETTER FROM GEN. KEARNEY.
of humanity which add to the glory of one of the
bravest of our commanders. [Copy.]
" Hd.-Qks. 3d Division, 1
" Fair Oaks, June 15, '62. j
"Dear Sir: — I return you my grateful acknowl
edgments for your noble and energetic conduct in
behalf of our poor sufferers of this division.
" From long experience in the field no one appre
ciates more sensibly the serAdce you thus render to
humanity and to our cause.
" If there has been one point, more than another,
where I have hitherto laboriously, and conscien
tiously, and successfully fulfilled my duties as an
officer, it has been in my solicitude for the sick and
disabled. I am thankful to find in you a strong
coadjutor; and when I am a little more free to sepa
rate myself from the cares of being on the spot to
command in case of attack, I will ever be found a
constant visitor of the hospitals.
" Most respectfully, your obdt. svt.,
"P.Kearney, Br.-Gen'l.
" The Rev. Dk. Marks,
"Chaplain 63d Reg^ Pa. Vols."

BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS. 187

CHAPTER XIII.
Battle of Fair 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.
I was returning from one of my journeys to the
White House, on Saturday, the 30th of May, when
the battle of Fair Oaks commenced. We had be
come accustomed to daily cannonading, to skirmish
ing, and picket firing; but this had a continuous
roar, and the heavy, crashing ring of a great en
gagement. When I reached Despatch Station I learned that
a battle was then in progress. I stopped at our
encampment, but found that all of General Kear
ney's troops had been hurried up to the scene of
conflict. I ran up the railroad towards the field of battle.
It was now three p. m. ; and at Meadow Station, one
mile east of Savage Station, and two and a quarter
from Seven Pines, I began to meet the Avounded
men, who, Avith broken arms, shattered fingers, and
flesh cuts, were wandering to the rear without any
definite purpose. They were mostly of General
Casey's division, and being disabled, when relieAred

188 an unequal contest.
by Generals Kearney and Hooker they were at lib
erty to seek safety and surgical aid.
They uniformly represented that their picket-lines
were not more than one-fourth of a mile in advance
of their camp, and extended to the long swamp
which stretched for miles on both sides of the rail
road along our front, and that their pickets had been
advanced as far as possible, most of the men stand
ing in water, or on tufts of grass and briars above
the bog.
That suddenly, while they were at dinner, the
pickets commenced firing, the enemy haAdng stolen
up close to them, and followed the retreating men
into the camp, and in a moment the cannon and
musketry of the Rebels opened upon them ; every
way they looked long lines of their foes were rush
ing out of the Avoods into the open fields, and with
wild, Indian-like shrieks Avere running towards them.
Some of the regiments stood their ground around
the camp until half of their number had fallen,
all the horses of the batteries were killed, and the
captured guns turned upon them; and even then
they fell back but one hundred rods, and rallied in
the bushes, and against overwhelming odds held the
enemy in check.
And here, for three hours, less than 5,000 men
held back 20,000 ; for the force of General Casey,
at the commencement of the action, was not more
than 6,000 men, and 1,000 were, in the first attack,
placed hors de combat; and thus crippled, the division
had to sustain this unequal contest for so long a
time. Many of the Confederate officers whom I met in

VINDICATION OF CASEY. 189
Richmond, and before it, uniformly spoke in the
highest terms of the bravery of General Casey ; and
said that his troops fought as Avell as they had ever
knoAvn fresh and undisciplined regiments, and that
they met from them a far more vigorous resistance
than they had anticipated.
They said that the position of General Casey was
one of the greatest peril. Thrown in advance of
Hooker and Kearney three miles, if they threw
against him a large force it was almost impossible
to reinforce him in season to prevent defeat. That
they had expected to cut his division to pieces, and
before reinforcements could possibly arrive, drive back
the shattered regiments, to bear with them conster
nation and panic.
But so far from tMs being realized, the unyield
ing firmness of this division prevented their cutting
through our left Asing, capturing a part, and demor
alizing the whole ; for it held out against them until
reinforcements came up. I was glad to hear them
vindicated, and relieved from those charges which
were so unjust and painful.
The first night after a battle is always full of in
describable horrors, men in their struggles throAving
themselves into every position, the cries of those
alongside of them complaining of the touch of their
shattered limbs, others shrieMng for water, many-
praying for death, and some begging a kind hand to
lift them up once more.
During the entire night the wounded were brought
in, until they covered the grounds around the house
of Mr. Savage, and filled all the outhouses, barns,
and sheds. Lying alongside of our wounded were

190 HOSPITAL AT SAVAGE STATION.
many Confederate soldiers and officers ; and to the
honor of our men be it said, I heard no words of anger
or reproach, but the rebels were uniformly treated
as Mndly as the Union soldiers.
All night the surgeons were occupied in ampu
tations; and, in the circumstances, they found it
impossible to look after those whose condition de
manded immediately, to revive them, food and stimu
lants. Wounded men suffer greatly from cold, and
shiver as in Avinter, or With an ague. It was there
fore essential to lift them from the damp ground, and
cover them as far as possible.
In the course of the evening twenty or thirty sol
diers from different regiments, who had borne in
upon their shoulders their wounded comrades, per
mitted me to organize them into a corps of nurses.
Colonel McKelvy, than whom no man was more
active for the relief of our men, furnished twenty
bales of hay, a thousand blankets, and permitted me
to draw on the Commissary Department for coffee,
sugar, and crackers to an indefinite amount. The
nurse-soldiers soon spread down this hay, and many
a shivering, wounded man, when lifted from the
damp earth, and placed upon the soft grass bed,
with a blanket spread over him, poured out his
gratitude in a thousand blessings. When this was
done we followed with hot coffee, and found our
way to every suffering man. Everywhere we were
compelled to place our feet in streams of blood : one
spectacle of anguish and agony only succeeded an
other. The mind was overAvhelmed and benumbed
by such scenes of accumulated misery. Where
there was so much to be done, and where we could

A PAINFUL SCENE. 191
do so little, the temptation was to hurry away from
such painful spectacles, and remember them only as
the visions of a frightful dream. Great must be the
cause which demands such a sacrifice. Here and
. there over the grounds were seen through that
night a circle of lanterns Avaving around the tables
of amputators. Every few moments there was a
shriek of some poor fellow under the knife. And
one after another the sufferers were brought forward
and laid down before the surgeons on stretchers,
each waiting Ms turn. And then again one with
face as white as marble, and every line telling that
he had passed through a suffering, the utmost which
human nature could endure, was borne aAvay and
laid doAvn for some kind-hearted man to pour into
his lips a few drops of brandy, to lift up his head,
and give him the assurance of life and sympathy.
There a brother knelt and wept over a dying brother,
and his voice, broken Avith sobs, begged me to come
and pray that his brother might be able to see Jesus
and depart in peace. There a father held up in his
arms a dying son, and was receiving his last message
to mother, sister, and brother; here a group of
sympathizing soldiers stood around a dying com
panion who was loudly bewailing his early death,
and that he should never see again Ms native hills.
There four or five were holding in their strong arms
one whose brain, having been piereed with a ball and
deprived of reason, was strong in the frantic energy
of madness ; here a beckoning hand urged me to
come, and at the sufferer's request sit down by his
side, and tell him what he must do to be saved.
Then was whispered a story of disobedience, of.

192 A NIGHT OF WOE.
crime that now stung like a serpent and bit like an
adder. Another begged me to come early in the
morning, and write a line to father or wife. Others
entreated that they should not be compelled to sub
mit to the knife of the operator, but that their limbs
might be spared them, for they felt sure that under
the surgeon's hand they should die. Others begged
that some board might bear their names and be
placed at the head of their graves.
If I turned from these scenes on the open ground
and entered into any of the houses, spots of blood
stained the steps and the stairs. In the halls were
lying alongside of each other many of the wounded
and dead. The rooms were crowded with sufferers,
broken and shattered in every conceivable way by
the enginery of death. From the mouth of one was
running a stream of blood ; another was* upheld in
the arms of a friend and gasping for breath, and the
deep and unnaturally bright eye told that all the
energies of life were summoned to the struggle.
One lying on the floor told by his loud snore of the
injury done to the brain, and that he, in all proba
bility, would never open his eyes ; and another beg
ged for help, that he might change his position and
relieve the suffering of his shattered thigh.
"Night of nights! who can tell thy tales of woe?"
At one place where a wounded soldier was pant
ing his last, I was summoned. He begged me to
pray for him, and taking from his finger a gold ring,
he asked me to send it to his wife, who had given it
him on the day of their marriage, and now he Avished
it to be restored to her. Li a few moments the last

A WOUNDED CHILD. 193
battle was fought, and the soldier was asleep. On
examining the ring I found underneath the wrap
pings of a thread the initials "J. S. to OB." This
had been done to preserve the letters, and was the
careful act of human love, anxious to preserA^e a sa
cred memento. In another group of sufferers I found
a little boy apparently not more than twelve years
of age ; the long hair thrown back from a beautiful
forehead, enabled me to see by the lantern light a
very childlike face. His right leg had been ampu
tated above his knee, and he was lying motionless
and apparently breathless, and as white as snow. I
bent over him, and put my fingers on his Avrist, and
discovered to my surprise the faint trembling of a
pulse. I immediately said to my attendant: "Why,
the cMld is alive ! "
"Yes, sir," said he, opening his eyes, "I am alive;
Avill you not send me to my mother ? "
"And where is your mother," said I, " my child ? "
"In Sumterville, South Carolina," he replied.
"Oh! yes, my son, we Avill certainly send you to
your mother."
"Well, well," said he, "that is Mnd; I will go to
sleep now."
Sabbath, June 1st. — It was understood that the
battle would be renewed this morning; and with
the first dawn of the day I saw Generals Keyes and
Heintzleman leave the head-quarters of the latter at
Savage Station. They rode, surrounded by their
aids, across the field leading to the Williamsburg
road. I had heard, during the night, that an hospital
had been created about a mile from the Station
towards the battle-field. I started to find it, and in a
17

194 JOSEPH BY NON.
short time reached the house, in and around which
were lying a multitude of our dying and wounded.
Several surgeons were there, amongst others Dr.
Rogers, to whom all accorded the praise of being
one of the most successful and humane of operators,
and Dr. Heighhold, one of the most active and hu
mane surgeons in the army. Ambulances were here
removing the disabled to Savage Station. Mingled
with the great number of wounded were many dead,
who having been brought in, did not survive the
night. Amongst the badly wounded was Joseph Bynon,
of Alleghany City, Pennsylvania, a young man of
the most generous nature, universally popular in
the regiment, and the hope and staff of a Avidowed
mother. He was lying on a blanket near the house,
wounded in the bowels. I asked him about his suf
ferings. He replied that he did not suffer much;
that he was faint from loss of blood, as he supposed.
I saw from his pulse that he had but a few moments
to live, and said to him :
"Joseph, are you willing and ready to die ? I am
afraid you cannot live."
"Well, doctor," he whispered, "I should like to
live ; I love my mother ; this will be a great sorrow
to her, and I should like to do something for my
little nephew and niece. But there is another life,
and I know I shall find my mother there. I feel
I have been a sinner ; in many things I have done
very Avrong ; but ever since the conversion I experi
enced in Camp Johnson, I have tried to follow my
Saviour, and now I die trusting. My mind wan
ders ; I find it difficult to think and speak ; in pray-

JOSEPH BYNON. 195
ing to God I may not say the things that are right ;
do, doctor, lift up my hands and clasp them to
gether, and pray for me ; I -will follow you."
I lifted up the hands crimsoned Avith his own
blood, and pressing them in mine, commended him
to the Merciful One, who for us all had suffered the
bitterness of death. He repeated word for word,
prayed for his mother, and then said : " Oh ! Lamb
of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, take
away my sin; into Thine hand I commend my
spirit!" He then left Ms blessing for his mother, his thanks
to her for the toil and affection of the past, and
thanMng me for what I had done for him, he
stopped exhausted, but his face became as tranquil
as that of a little child. While I was yet talMng
with him, the rattle of musketry commenced near
us, and in another moment a shell came shrieking
over us. Instantly there was the call of "Men, to
arms! fall into line!" General Heintzleman or
dered his men to march through the orchards and
enter the forest. The firing became more brisk, and
was coming closer. All the stragglers, servants, am
bulance drivers, some of the surgeons, and all the
nurses, commenced a wild, pell-mell retreat. There
were still many wounded men lying around ; they
begged not to be abandoned and left to the enemy.
Joseph Bynon called me to him, and said : " Doc
tor, don't leave me."
"No, Joseph, you shall be removed before I
leave." I ran out to an omnibus then driving past, and
commanded the driver to stop and take in all he

196 SUMNER'S CORPS AT FAIR OAKS.
could carry. After much persuasion he drove up to
the gate. Just then Mr. William Grey, of Taunton,
Pennsylvania, drove up apparently as calm as in the
quietest march, and placed in the three ambulances
all the living lying at this spot. Joseph Bynon
died before he reached Savage Station, and was
buried under the shade of the apple-trees in the
orchard. Our men were in line of battle about one hundred
yards in advance of this house, in the edge of the
forest. It was now about seven a. m. The firing
was very brisk and steady all along our front lines,
but having none of the regularity and continuous
roar of battle, but lively sMrmishing. While I was
aiding the wounded into the ambulances, I heard
loud shouts to our right, and turned to look for the
cause. I saAV coming out through the forest from
the railroad a large body of our troops. This was
General Sumner's corps, Avhich had crossed the
Chickahominy on the previous evening, and reached
the right of our wing in season to prevent our right
flank being turned, and consequent defeat; and
now, Avith the true instinct of a loyal and brave com
mander, he Avas bringing his men to the scene of the
greatest danger.
I felt certain, Avhen I saw this magnificent corps
move along with the steady step of veterans, that
the day Avas ours. As regiment after regiment passed
in front of our lines, with waving banners and music,
they were hailed and cheered Avith the loudest shouts.
They turned up the Williamsburg road, and were
immediately followed by General Heintzleman and
his corps. For a feAv moments there was the ominous

RENEWAL OF THE FIGHT. 197
calm which often precedes battle. TaMng advan
tage of this, I ran up along the Williamsburg road
in pursuit of the army, and in a few moments reached
our breastworks, which extended along our entire
front from the Chickahominy to the White Oak
Swamp. Our batteries were in position, and on the
breastworks themselves were planted many field-
pieces. Within the mtrenehments was a long line
of men, as far as the eye could reach, every man
bending on his knee and resting his gun on the em
bankment, silent and motionless, intently looking
for the enemy. The gunners stood around the can
non, equally alert and watchful.
In front of this line of intrenchments were open
fields, extending two miles on each side of the road.
The open ground in front of us was probably about
one-fourth of a mile Avide, and then again was inter
rupted by forests. On the opposite side of this field
the enemy was posted, under the covert of the woods.
-After I had passed out of the intrenchments, and
gone beyond the first field batteries, I saw the troops
of General Sumner's corps and those of General
Heintzleman, under General Hooker, march into
the field, deploying to the right and left, and with a
steady quick step they commenced advancing on the
enemy. Before they reached the centre of the field,
their march became double-quick : continually firing
as they ran, they dashed forward on the enemy. Oc
casionally I could see a gap in our lines following
the thunder of some field-pieces, but in a moment
this was not perceptible, and the men were marching
on as brisk as ever. Very soon our droops reached
the edge of the forest, and I trembled in apprehen-
17*

198 DEFEAT OF THE REBELS.
sion of the sanguinary contest ; but nothing could
resist the energy and determination of our soldiers.
The struggle was but for a moment, and the tide of
battle rolled into the forest, and our front line was
lost to the view, except an occasional gleam of arms
that came out from the openings amongst the trees.
Then the din, and the clash, and the roar went
up into the heavens more distinctly from the field
beyond. By climbing into the trees we could see the
enemy pushed back into the sAvamps, and gradually
the rattle of musketry ceased : Ave heard only the
cannon firing on the retreating foe. There is no
doubt of the truth of the statement often made, that
the enemy on this day were thoroughly defeated,
and that it was possible for us to have taken Kich-
mond. The Rebel soldiers rushed into Richmond,
heralding their defeat and spreading alarm, thou
sands of them throwing away their guns in their
flight; and if we had pushed vigorously forward
Ave could have been in Richmond before night.
General Johnston had been severely Avounded the
previous day, and the enemy acted without concert
or plan.
General Heintzleman afterwards told me that
when it became evident that the day was gained,
and the Confederates in full retreat, he had already
given command to advance until the works of the
enemy were taken. But General Kearney reminded
him that his only reserves were General Couch's and
General Casey's divisions, which had lost large num
bers on the previous day, and were considerably ex
hausted and dispirited; that he could receive no
reinforcements in season from the right side of the

BRAVERY OF OUR TROOPS. 199
Chickahominy, and if our army should receive a
check, the peril of its position would be great. This
induced the general to order the halt of our army.
As often in our lives, Ave Avere wise too late ; and
thus ended one of the most hotly contested and
severe battles of the Peninsula. Our loss was esti
mated at 7,000 MUed and Avounded ; the loss of the
enemy is known to have been greater, probably
10,000. In no battle did our troops show more un
flinching determination, and in none were their en
durance and courage more thoroughly tried.
I subsequently passed all over this field, and saw
nowhere, in any battle-scene of the Peninsula, the
signs of a more terrific conflict. Our troops and the
enemy were often, during Saturday afternoon, within
a few feet of each other, in the midst of the pine
slashings and swamp forests, and in their stealthy
advance would suddenly find themselves looMng
in each other's faces ; and then would commence
one of those exciting and sanguinary scenes not
often witnessed, except in Indian warfare. Men
skulMng behind the nearest tree, or crouching down
sheltered by a stump, singling out an enemy, taking
deliberate aim, and if one dared to display his
hand, or cap, or shoulder, instantly there was the
crack of the gun of his foe. Often did our men, in
such positions, take off the blouse and gently lift it
out on the end of the ramrod ; this would draw out
the enemy's fire ; then the blouse Avould fall as if
the man was shot ; this would embolden his foe to
look up and reveal his position for a moment, and
then his own gun flashed, and possibly his enemy
was forever harmless.- Hundreds of such scenes oc-

200 SEVERITY OF THE CONFLICT.
curred. Some of our troops engaged in this con
test have told me that the face of the foe that fired
at them for an hour was so distinctly daguerreotyped
on the mind, that they would know the man for
years wherever they should meet him. No man
can pass over the scene without amazement. The
balls must have fallen in an incredible number at
the point on the battle-field where General Kear
ney's men so hotly contested every inch of ground
on Saturday afternoon. In the swamp slashings to
the right of the Williamsburg road are signs of a
terrific conflict ; all the fallen trees are pierced and
torn Avith musket-balls, grape-shot, and shells. A
small sapling tree of about twenty-tAvo feet in length,
and about the size of a man's arm, I singled out as
the one on which to count the number of balls that
had struck it. I numbered twenty-five musket-balls
as having pierced one side of the tree alone. The
marks of this contest Avere so numerous on the stand
ing trees and stumps, and in the slashings, that my
astonishment was that any one could have escaped
¦with life. It appeared to me that not even a small
bird could fly
" Unscathed where fell this storm of hullets."
Many of our brave men did indeed fall in this
conflict, — but three out of five escaped without a
wound. Our soldiers ever spoke with the greatest admira
tion of the coolness and bravery of Generals Heint
zleman, Hooker, Sumner, Kearney, and Couch.
General Hooker on this day more than sustained the
reputation he had obtained at Williamsburg, as pos-

ANECDOTE OF HEINTZLEMAN. 201.
sessed of that clear-sightedness, and courage, and
prophetic prognostication of the position and move
ments of the enemy, which have since placed him at
the head of the Army of the Potomac. General
Kearney showed himself equal to every emergency,
dared every danger, and risked his life in the most
hazardous positions. His men seemed to be capable
of performing anything under his eye, for their con
fidence in his courage and military sagacity was un
bounded. I have often heard the men speak at the
camp-fires of his unruffled coolness during both of
those days ; and they tell of General Heintzleman
the characteristic story, that in the midst of the
thickest of the fight on Saturday afternoon, a New
York colonel, who had been absent from his regi
ment on picket-duty, came hurrying up to the gen
eral with two companies, and earnestly inquired
where he would find his brigade. "That, colonel,
I cannot tell," said the general; "but if it is fight
ing you want, just go in, colonel ; there is plenty
good fighting all along the lines."
Of Colonel A. Hays (now General Hays) General
Heintzleman, in Ms report of the battle, spoke in
the highest terms. He likewise had been separated
from his regiment by detail duty, and when he
snuffed the battle afar off, rushed to the front with
the eagerness of a war-horse, .and instantly com
menced collecting the loose, straggling soldiers, Avan-
dering without officers, and organized them into a
corps of upwards of three hundred men. Animated
by his eye and voice, they followed him with shouts
into the thickest of the fight. I mentioned before
that I had taken my position on one of the advanced

202 GENERAL KEARNEYS ACUTENESS.
redoubts in the field, and was here looMng with
emotions that I can never describe upon the con
test, and again witnessed another illustration of the
remarkable quickness and acuteness of General Kear
ney, who, though I was at some distance from him
and Ms staff, saw me in a moment. He was seated
on his celebrated grey. He turned his horse and
came within speaMng distance, and. said :
"What, sir, what, you here?"
"Yes, general," I replied.
"What brings you here, sir ? "
" My regiment is here," I replied, " and I wanted
to see the battle."
" This is no place for you, sir," said he. " Go to
the rear, sir, to Savage Station, and report to me.
All the men of my division that you find there
wounded or dead, attend to them, sir, and I will
thank you. Are you ready to report of the men
that you took down to the White House ? "
"Yes, sir," I replied, "I saw them all in their hos
pital wards before I left."
"That's well," said he. "Now go back and see
to the poor fellows at Savage Station, and you will
do a great deal better than to stand here and be
killed." I then told the general that I had spent the entire
night at Savage Station attending to the sick and
wounded. "Well," said he, "report everything to me."
I bowed, descended from my elevation, turned
my face from the field, and stopped only when the
tumult of battle seemed to swell up with great force.
One remarkable thing I noticed on this field and

ROBBERY OF THE DEAD. 203
many others. There was a class of battle thieves
who picked every dead man's pocket, and many a
wounded man's, before he could be reached by his
companions or borne to the rear. There is, no doubt,
a class of men with both armies who suspend fighting,
and creep and crawl from one dead man to another.
One thing was certain, that however numerous the
dead on the battle-field, before their friends could
return to them their money and their watches had
been taken.
TMs battle was very fatal to many of the finest reg
iments in the army.
General Berry's brigade of brave Michigan troops
suffered greatly, but fought with fierce determina
tion unequalled in any subsequent engagement. The
105th Pennsylvania, the celebrated "wild cat" regi
ment, lost 255 men, — more than one-half of those
brought into action, but contributed much to hold
the enemy in check and prevent the execution of
his plan of piercing our line, and thus hurling the
broken fragments into James River and the Chicka
hominy. It became plain on Saturday afternoon that, cal
culating upon the swell of the Chickahominy conse
quent upon the very heaAy rains that had recently
fallen, the enemy had thrown his whole force on our
left wing, basing his operations upon the hope that
the Mgh waters of the river would prevent our right
Aving reaching us ; that the swollen waters would ren
der impossible the passage of artillery, and sweep away
the bridges ; therefore General Johnston seized this
moment to annihilate our left wing, and to accomplish
tMs brought out and hurled on us all his available

204 REBEL STRATEGY AT FAIR OAKS.
forces. When the battle had vigorously begun,
General Sumner, with the true instinct of an old
warrior, comprehended the whole move; and gave
orders for the advance of his corps across the Chicks
hominy. By incredible efforts he succeeded in urg
ing over before night all his men, and bringing with
him several pieces of artillery.
After General Sumner had crossed the river, he
had no other guide to the scene of battle but the
cannonading; but hurrying up he succeeded in
reaching the field in time to prevent Johnston sur
rounding our left Aving, and thus saved our honor
and the Army of the Potomac. For the four divi
sions composing this Aving of the army would cer
tainly have been overcome by vastly superior num
bers, though they had fought with the bravery of
Spartans. Before night separated the combatants, we knew
Avith certainty that we had to contend with the en
tire force of the enemy; and there should not have
been a moment's hesitation in ordering across 50,000
men from our right wing ; but the issuing of this
order was delayed four hours, and a night march
became impossible. Before morning the Chicka
hominy had rapidly risen, the bridges were afloat,
and the passage of the right wing became impossi
ble ; and that delay prevented our triumphant en
trance into Richmond on the 1st of June.
During this day, the Sabbath, there was a con
tinuation of the scenes I have previously described
in the tents and on the open ground at Savage Sta
tion. A great number of the Avounded, however,
were sent to the White House, to be placed in vari-

THOMAS COATS. 205
ous steamers which had been sent up the Pamunky
for the purpose of receivmg them.
The endurance of our wounded men was truly
noble. They all appeared to think that the cause
Avas of far more value than their lives. Many of
them were very cheerful, though so severely injured
as to die in a few days afterwards.
Many most touching incidents occurred in connec
tion with these scenes, the wounded showing the
deepest sympathy for those whom they thought in
a worse condition than themselves. There were
many instances of their refusing the cup of coffee
or toddy, in order that it might be given to a
greater sufferer. Many of these cases made upon
my mind the deepest impression I have ever received
of the primitive dignity and glory of human nature.
One young man, Thomas Coats, sergeant of the 63d
Pennsylvania, who was most painfully and mortally
wounded, his right thigh being shattered, displayed
a patience, a fortitude, and a submission that were
really sublime. Three times we bore him up,
racked Avith suffering as he was, and conveyed
him to the cars, and each time were we doomed
to be disappointed, for the cars were filled up by
those who were stronger and better able to help
themselves. The disappointment, the pain, the har
rowing scene, he bore without a murmur or a frown ;
and when we parted, with a countenance as placid as
in perfect health and full of hope, he bade his friends
and companions farewell, with no expectation of ever
meeting them again. How many such young men
have fallen, who, if they had lived, would have been
18

206 REBEL PRISONERS.
centres of ever-widening influence and pillars in so
ciety !
We had taken two or three hundred prisoners ;
these were assigned a certain district of the picket
garden. The officers Avere respectable-looMng, in
telligent men, and very willing to defend their cause.
The soldiers were poorly clad, dejected looking, and,
with rare exceptions, very ignorant ; but apparently
no less gratified than amazed at the Mnd and the
abundance of the food. They had been led to ex
pect the most cruel treatment from the Yankees, but
now they confessed that they were a great deal better
off as prisoners than they had ever been as soldiers.
But they Avere very anxious to know their fate:
"Were they to be sent to prison, tried for their lives
and hung, or sent away to some distant country?"
Occasionally some of these prisoners were sent with
our men to dig the graves of the dead, and at such
times there occurred some of the most amusing and
interesting conversations I ever listened to. Some
of the Confederate soldiers were able to paint in
strong colors the character of the Yankees who had
found their way South ; their tricks, meannesses,
and sharp transactions. They complained of negroes
tampered Avith, of books and tracts put into the
hands of those who were inciting to insurrection, of
hostility to slavery, of wagons sold made of rotten
Avood, of carriages without iron, of swindles in every
department of business and trade, of violated pledges
and compacts. They had lost all confidence in us,
and did not wish to live under the same govern
ment. They wished a gulf dug as deep as the cen
tre of the earth, over Avhich Ave could never pass to

THE YANKEES VINDICATED. 207
them. To this and much more some shrewd New
Yorker or New Englander who had been down
South, would* reply, and picture the miserable con
dition of Southern society, the vices and cruelties
of the aristocracy, the ignorance, indolence, and
misery of the masses. "As for swindling, they
were so stupid and withal so vain that they tempted
every keen operator to pluck them, to quicken
their wits and give them some sense. As for
cheating, the whole South broke up every ten years,
and robbed the North of hundreds of millions. And
as to stealing, the Yankee never was born who
could come within a hundred leagues of Floyd. As
for getting along without us, they might as Avell at
tempt to fight without powder, or Avalk without feet.
What had they that we did not give them ? Our
teachers taught all their schools ; their houses were
built by our mechanics ; their fields Avere cultivated
with the ploughs and hoes made in our shops ; their
railroads were created by our capital ; their calicoes,
cloths, shoes, and stockings were made in our fac
tories ; our ships bore to foreign parts their cotton ;
Ave baked their bread for them and put the butter
on it, and sent it down to them hot for breakfast.
Do Avithout us ? Yes, it will be a poor do. When
we were all the time helping you, you could scarcely
get along. If we just take you at your word, the In
dians and Negroes will take all the South."
Then another Southerner Avould have his story
of griefs and wrongs. These conversations, so far
from embittering the men towards each other, molli
fied their manners and spirits : they comprehended
each other's position, and the respect of each for his

208 DISTINGUISHED SURGEONS.
opponent was evidently increased. And to the honor
of our men be it said, I never saw any of that bitter
ness and malignant hate so often exhibited on the
other side. I do not believe that one Confederate
soldier had the least cause to complain of neglect or
cruelty. I have spoken of a number of surgeons who at this
time distinguished themselves by surgical operations
of the rarest skill. Of this number were Doctors
Page and Hall, of Boston, Doctor Bliss, of Michigan,
and Doctor Swinburne, of Albany. The latter gentle
man had been sent to the army by Governor Mor
gan to minister relief to the wounded soldiers of that
State, and to give them the benefit of his eminent
surgical abilities. To a most unflinching hand he
added the gentlest heart, always sparing when there
was the least hope for a shattered limb, and by a
thousand acts of kindness endearing himself to a
multitude of sufferers. I shall have occasion to speak
of him again in connection with the seven days'
battles. I can never cease to feel grateful to Doctor
Bliss, brigade surgeon of General Berry's brigade.
He was sleepless and unwearied in his attention to
the wounded, took every measure in his power for
their relief and encouraged every one who would in
any way minister to the comfort of those under his
care. This Avas the more commendable, for there were
surgeons who were too indolent or thoughtless about
their wounded, and made no effort to obtain beds or
covering, and were apparently indifferent to the
many wants of the men suffering from exhaustion
and pain.

WOUNDED SENT NORTH. 209
The value of a physician in such circumstances is
more in securing a faithful and constant care on the
part of the nurses in seeing that the patients are
Avashed, their wants instantly attended to, their food
suitable and frequent, and the stimulants adminis
tered and not drank by others, than in bandaging or
amputations ; for Avhile one wounded man requires
that the broken limb should be cut off, five require
constant care lest they die of exhaustion and nervous
prostration. In the course of a week all the wounded whose
removal was possible were taken in the cars -to the
White House, and thence transferred by boat to
Fortress Monroe and Northern cities. The most of
them never returned, — one-fourth were maimed for
life, one-fifth, after lingering for days and weeks on
couches of pain and suffering, passed from earth for
ever, leaving desolate a thousand homes; and by
many a stream the broken harp of hope was hung
on the willows, and the song began in gladness
ended in the sobbings of despair.
On the Tuesday after the battle of Fair Oaks,
I saw General Casey's division marching to the
rear of the army. The day was one of continu
ous storm, the roads were covered with water, and
the streams that ordinarily were but little brooks
ran like rivers ; and on such a day and in such a con
dition of the country this division was remanded
from its encampment in front and sent back six
miles to the rear. And during the continuance of
the tempest these soldiers were seen gliding along
on the edge of the forest on the Williamsburg road,
endeavoring in the bushes to escape the SAvamps of
18*

210 UNMERITED DISGRACE.
the field and road. Worn down with exertion, ex
hausted and sick, some had fallen out of the ranks,
and were lying down in the mud and water, or were
seated on stones. These soldiers had none of the
free, manly look which ought to sit upon the coun
tenance of every American in the army ; but they
Avere dejected, and doomed, without a hearing, to
the most ignominious insult.
I looked then with profound indignation on the
scene ; and every time I reflected upon it, my aston
ishment has been increased that any American gen
eral should dare to inflict such an act of injustice
and inhumanity. They were sent back into the
swamps of the Chickahominy without tents, and ex
posed, on one of the most inclement days I ever saw,
to the fatigues of a long march, and to the disastrous
consequences of exposure and disgrace.
After the action described in the previous chapter,
it was perfectly evident that our entire army should
have been removed for safety and for success to
James River. The battle of Fair Oaks made it plain
that one wing of the army might be defeated before
the other wing could be brought up to its aid ; and
that Avidely extended as was our front, it was impos
sible to collect our forces in time to prevent the suc
cess of a combined attack of the enemy upon any
vulnerable point. Much would likewise have been
gained by removing our troops from the malarious
swamps and muddy camps we then occupied to a
higher ground and an open country. Such a change
of base appears to have been contemplated by Gen
eral McClellan, and at one time resolved on, but de
ferred in execution until it was forced on us. We

INTRENCHMENTS THROAVN UP. 211
now commenced making regular advances as in
siege, by throwing up earthAvorks and redoubts.
On these one-third of the army Avas daily em
ployed, and the Avorks constructed from the 1st to
the 21st of June will remain for ages the monu
ments of our industry and perseverance. All these
works were constructed under the fire of the enemy :
there were frequent skirmishes along the line, and
shell and round-shot fell during all working hours
amongst our men. Still the work went on, and
great mounds were thrown up, and vast embank
ments created, which will excite the astonishment
of future travellers.
During these weeks no day passed by without some
"SSEguinary scenes being witnessed ; and wounded
men were brought in nearly every morning to the
hospitals. Everything combined to exhaust and di-
\ minish the effective force of our army. Our troops
' Avere day and night doing fatigue duty, which either
means hewing doAvn the forest, or digging and shov
elling in the intrenchments ; or they were on watch,
frequently called to arms, ran out at double-quick
through ponds and lakes to our front ; then, added to
all, the heat of the day was tropical, the sun smote
with a power that withered and blasted our strength.
From all these causes and operations, the sick of our
army during these twenty days mereased at a fearful
rate. I have no doubt that one-half of the left wing
was prostrated and unfit for duty before the com
mencement of our retreat. I knew some regiments
that had left Hampton 1000 strong which could not
now bring into the field 250 men; and in less than
two months, from the daily increase in the number

212 CAMP DISEASES.
of the sick, our entire army would have melted
away. The sufferings amongst the sick Avere of the most
acute and painful character. They were tortured
with constant thirst, generally with intense pain in
the head, and frequently with delirium. The camp
diseases, such as dysentery, diarrhoea, and miasmatic
fevers, are very painful and exhausting. The hospi
tals had to be created on the field in the immediate
neighborhood of our camps : often these were rude
cabins, without floors and without beds, and gener
ally speaking destitute of any of those comforts that
go to alleviate sickness at home. No wonder that
many soldiers gave themselves up with stoic indif
ference to die.
My employment at this time was, as before, the
superintending of the removal of the sickest men of
the division from the field-hospitals to those that had
been created by the orders of General Kearney in
various farm-houses.

STUART'S CAVALRY RAID. 213

CHAPTER XIV.
General Stuart's Cavalry Raid — Wild Commotion on the Pa
munky — Hospital at Carter's House — Arrival of General
Franklin's Troops — Mr. Alvord's Labors.
On the evening of the 13th of June I went to the
White House on one of my semi-weeMy excursions,
for the purpose of seeing after the condition of the
men in the hospitals, reporting the same to General
Kearney, and obtaining supplies of medicines and
sanitary stores. The day had been oppressively
warm. I was invited on board the steamer Commo
dore by the surgeon in charge ; and during the eve
ning we were alarmed by the firing of cannon and
musketry, and the intelligence that the enemy had
taken possession of Tunstall's Station on the rail
road, and had attacked our troops on other parts of
the line. Instantly the signal was given for the va
rious vessels at anchor at the White House to fall
doAvn stream. The whole night was one of the
greatest commotion and alarm. This was the cele
brated raid of General Stuart, in which he, with
1800 cavalry, swept round our entire rear.
On the following day I saw several of our wounded
men, and learned from them that they had been on
duty at Tunstall's Station ; and that the enemy had
attacked and overpowered them with vastly superior

214 A BRAVE ENGINEER.
numbers. A few moments before the arrival of the
train bringing down a considerable number of offi
cers, and sick and wounded men from the army, the
enemy had placed obstructions on the railroad track,
and was determined to capture the train. The first
indication that the conductor had of the presence of
the enemy was a number of officers standing on the
track, and waving their swords for the train to stop.
There was a momentary check until the engineer
comprehended the truth, and then he put on all
steam and dashed forward with the greatest speed
he could command. The Confederates now poured
a deadly fire into the cars, wounding many of our
men. A hundred guns were aimed at the engineer,
and though struck, he did not forsake his post, but
rushed on, sweeping the Rebels and the obstructions
out of the way, and safely reaching the dep6t.
When the wounded and dead were brought in on
these cars, and the many officers and soldiers sprang
out to tell the story, the scene of excitement beggars
description. Hundreds of negroes, running back to
their miserable shanties, gathered up their little
effects ; sutlers packed their goods, and hastened
them to the vessels that were about slipping their
cables ; numbers of officers ran to and fro to gather
men to repel an attack ; others Avere busy securing
the papers and goods of their departments, and issu
ing orders which no one obeyed. And any observer
could see how easy it is for a few men, acting in
concert, to scatter ten thousand acting Avithout a plan
or head.
Colonel Ingalls, at the head of the commissary de
partment, acted with the greatest coolness ; and in

RALSTON HOOVER. 215
case the enemy had made an attack, would have
saved to the country three-fourths of the supplies
and public property accumulated there, which was
estimated, including the military and commissary
stores, and shipping, at $5,000,000.
The enemy, however, after being foiled in captur
ing the railroad train, gathered up such horses and
guns as he could find, rode to Baltimore Cross
roads, and encamped for the night. We had a hos
pital near to this place, and to this General Stuart
and the principal surgeon connected with Ms staff
rode over. Their conduct Avas humane and gentle
manly, the surgeon coming in, indeed, and borrow
ing a small quantity of medicines, the general not
permitting any of his officers to enter the house,
saying he did not Avish to alarm the sick men. He
placed guards around the premises, to prevent any
of our men leaving during the night and communi
cating with our army. Though General Stuart said
he did not wish to alarm our sick men, yet that night
was fatal to more than one. It is easy, in a certain
stage of the typhoid fever, when the whole nervous
system is at the lowest depression, to destroy a pa
tient by an alarm or shock. Of the sick in this hos
pital was one noble young man from Indiana County,
Pennsylvania, Ralston Hoover, who died that night.
He had been sick three weeks, and was thought to
be recovering, and was deemed at this time to be
out of danger. In his pocket, after his death, were
found some of the most touching and beautiful let
ters from a child sister and a little brother, telling
him how much they missed him, how they longed
for his return, how they counted the days until he

216 ARRIVAL OF GEN. FRANKLIN.
might come back, but, above all, telling how proud
they were of their soldier brother. And they never
heard a drum beat nor a fife play Avithout thinking
of him, and feeling glad that they had one noble
brother to fight for his country. Poor children ! I
read these touching and eloquent letters at his grave,
and could not but add my tears to theirs, with deep
regret that one who had such a home would never
return to gladden with his presence the hearts of
those that loved him.
About this time General McCall's division, and
other troops from the Rappahannock, under the
command of General Franklin, were landed at the
White House, and added some 15,000 fresh troops
to our effective force. I saw this division when
landed ; and in the march up to the railroad to dif
ferent positions I could not but look upon them with
considerable satisfaction, for their condition was so
much better than that of the army which had been
breathing the pestilential air of the Peninsula for
three months.
I have before mentioned the hospital in Captain
Carter's house. This was about one mile north-east
of Savage Station, and a half mile from the railroad.
Captain Carter Avas evidently a man of taste and en
terprise. Around his house were blooming roses
and magnolias, and everything about the place gave
evidence of refinement and cultiATation. The out
houses and barns were not, as in most Virginia
plantations, miserable tottering sheds, but painted
and Avell inclosed. Near to this house was one of
the finest springs I have ever seen, overshadowed
with oaks and mulberries. It rushed out as if laugh-

A WELCOME SPRING. 217
ing with joy to escape from the dark imprisonment
of caverns, but stopped to twine its arms lovingly
around the roots of the magnolia and to Mss the
hyacinth and lily.
This spring Avas a fountain in the desert to hun
dreds. Many a fevered and staggering soldier made
tMs the first request of the morning, that we would
permit some nurse to help them to the spring, and
Avhen taken there they would wash their burning
hands and cool their throbbing temples m the
Avaters; and then seated Avith their backs against
the trees, they would linger for hours, hearing the
sweetest music and seeing every moment new beau
ties. They were dreaming of distant scenes. Such
a spring was near the old homestead ; and father,
mother, and sister might be this moment walMng
around it, and they could see their faces. Or just
such a spring flowed by the door of their home in
the mountains, and over pebbles just as white and
shells like these ; and they could hear the voices of
their children, and see the pale, anxious face of one
dearer than all. Such spots and scenes have an
amazing poAver in soothing and quieting the sick
Avhen despondent, shattered by weeks of pain, and
the future all dark. Such a place, whispering of
the ceaseless benignity of Providence, brings to the
heart the relief that the harp of David threw over
the troubled King of Israel.
To this house of Captain Carter was sent about
150 of the sick of General Kearney's division. I
was sent by Colonel Hays to take charge of them.
A physician of the 105th Pennsylvania, Doctor
Smiti, visited us once or twice a day. His hospital
19

218 INHUMAN SURGEONS.
Avas about one half mile from us on the railroad.
Here likewise Avere 180 men.
There had been brought to Meadow Station on
Friday evening, the 27th of May, about 100 men,
mostly of Hooker's division, to be sent to the White
House on the cars.
But before this was possible the enemy were in
our rear, and those poor suffering men, without
physicians and only three nurses, were left Avithout
food, and they knew not where to turn or to whom
to appeal. Their surgeons were more than occupied
with the demands made upon them in the field;
and there Avas no one to look after these men. Sent
away, they hoped they might be safe, but if not
they could not help them. Their generals and reg
imental officers Avere every hour needed at their
posts. And hemmed in, changing position, fighting
every day, there Avas no man that could be spared
to hunt up the sick and see to their removal. I say
this to relieve many minds of the apprehension they
have, that a number of our sick and. wounded were
cruelly neglected. That there Avere physicians who
manifested great heartlessness, and who, when de
tailed for special service in hospitals and in remov
ing the sick, were inattentive, stupidly indifferent,
and even drunken, is, to the disgrace of human na
ture, true ; but let us not demand of surgeons more
than is possible. Some of them manifested the high
est moral heroism, and became martyrs to their hu
manity. If the Roman soldier who saved the life
of a citizen was honored with an oaken chaplet,
surely many of our surgeons deserve the gratitude

REV. MR. ALVORD. 219
of the country, and especially of the men whom they
saved from perishing.
The days which intervened betAveen this and the
commencement ofthe final struggle, are marked by
few incidents or events of great interest. But in the
meantime the heat of the sun had become tropical,
the dense forests preventing the free circulation of
air, and the fields being white and beaten : the sun
smote us as if every ray was a drop of fire. This,
together with the daily fatigue labors on the in
trenchments and redoubts, and the night duties of
the watch, began to tell most disastrously on our
men. The sick increased by hundreds, and all the
hospitals were croAvded.
At this time my labors were entirely in the various
hospitals connected with our division, and'amongst
the wounded men left at Savage Station. I had the
invaluable aid of the ReA'. Mr. Alvord, of Boston, who
was in the army as secretary of the American Tract
Society, and who gave Ms time and his horse and
wagon for the carrying of supplies of clothing, food,
and sanitary stores to our sick. I never appealed to
this kind and noble man in vain, but invariably,
however impassable the roads, hoAvever deep the
swamp and flood, he would harness up his carriage
to convey to the sufferers the supplies obtained. New
England has sent many generous and excellent men
into the army, but for none does she deserve more
of the gratitude of the country than for the Rev. Mr.
Alvord. Everything began to Avear the appearance, to my
eye, of despondency in the army. Rumors came to

220 DEPRESSING RUMORS.
us daily of the great increase of the Confederate
forces, Avhile ours were evidently rapidly diminishing.
And it appeared to me that even in head-quarters
"coming events were casting their shadows before ; "
and everything betrayed the absence of that vigor
Avhich is given by hope and distinctness of plan.

SEVEN DAYS' BATTLES. 221

CHAPTER XV.
Commencement of the Seven Days' Battles — Second Battle of
Fair Oaks, on Wednesday, June 25th — Battle of Mechanics
ville, on Thursday, June 26th — Battle of Gainesville, on Fri
day, June 27th — Scenes amongst the Wounded at Savage Sta
tion — Narrow Escape of Rev. Mr. Dickson — Mr. Brunot, of
Pittsburg — Dr. Swinburne, of Albany.
On the 25th of June commenced the combined ad
vance of our army. General Heintzleman was com
manded by General McClellan to advance the entire
front of the left wing, and this movement was suc
cessfully accomplished. This is sometimes called
the second battle of Fair Oaks. Up to this time
there had been quite friendly relations between our
pickets and those of the enemy, often exchanging
courtesies, trading tobacco, and passing from one
line to the other the New York Herald for the Rich
mond sheets.
This Avas the first of those grand and never-to-be-
forgotten contests called "The Seven Days' Battles."
We had been for many days in a state of intense
expectation, for everything indicated that all Avas
now ready for an advance on Richmond. It Avas
therefore determined, as the first step, to push our
lines from one-half to a mile in advance of our pres
ent position. 19*

222 SECOND BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS.
The accomplishment of this task was committed
to General Hooker.
In front of General Hooker's encampment was a
thick entanglement of Ioav pines, vines, and ragged
bushes, full of ponds and marshes. This wilderness
Avas about five hundred yards wide, and beyond this
an open field of half a mile in width ; and in this
field AA-ere the rifle-pits, earth/works, and redoubts of
the enemy. The plan was to drive the enemy from
the forests and field, and establish our lines where
his then Avere. The attacking column consisted of
Grover's, Sickles's, and Robinson's brigades. Gene
ral Kearney was sent to protect the left flank, and
the 19th Massachusetts, Colonel Hicks, was ordered
to advance and protect the right.
The three brigades mentioned advanced slowly,
but steadily, into the thickets, and some distance
within met and drove back the enemy's pickets.
This Avas soon folloAved by a rapid and incessant
firing, until in a few moments the forest was a scene of
furious contest, and the ominous quiet was succeeded
by the terrible din and clash of arms, and the roar
of cannon and musketry. Soon nothing could be
seen for the heavy cloud, rising up and twisting itself
amongst the trees, hanging over the forest as a pall ;
and then streams of fire, like angry lightnings, Avould
flash out from amongst the trees ; and anon an or
derly would rush from the gloom, covered with dust
and blood, with garments torn, carrying reports or
hasting for orders.
In half an hour the skirmish extended along the
entire line, and Kearney's and Hooker's divisions
Avere engaged in the liveliest action ; and soon, from

SECOND BATTLE OF FAIR OAKS. 223
the arrival of fresh troops on both sides, the engage
ment assumed the magnitude of a battle.
Our troops pushed steadily fonvard, and in less
than an hour drove the enemy out of the forest
into the open field, over which they fled and sought
protection in their rifle-pits. Here our men raised
the shout of triumph, which Avas taken up by bri
gade after brigade, and borne through the army.
General Grover AA-as about to order an advance on
the enemy in their defences, Avhen our troops were
halted by an order from General McClellan. From
some misapprehension of the actual condition of
things, he ordered General Hooker to retire from
the field of victory, and return to our original posi
tions ; but when the commander-in-chief came upon
the scene of action at a later hour, he ordered our
troops to advance and reoccupy the woods and fields
they had taken, and before night the enemy Avas
driven out of the rifle-pits, and from the fields, and
we had gained a victory which cost us 640 of our
best men in killed and wounded.
About six o'clock the enemy came out in force
and attacked General Robinson's brigade. He made
a most resolute charge, led by a very brave regi
ment of Georgians, but Avas met by men equally as
brave, Avas driven back, and left 300 men dead on
the field.
In this attack Lieutenant CocMan, of Franklin;
Venango County, Pennsylvania, received his death
Avound, — liAfing some hours, and giving to those who
stood around him on that night most comfortable
assurance that he went up from the field of carnage
into the bosom of our Lord.

224 BATTLE OF MECHANICSVILLE.
During the entire night our men were under arms,
and every feAv moments there was an attack upon
some part of our line, as if they Avere determined to
AA'in back what they had lost; but all these were only
feints to fully occupy our attention, and to preA'ent
reinforcements being sent to our right wing.
At the time of Hooker's adA-ance upon the enemy,
on the 25th, Ave Avere full of hope that this Avas the
beginning of a grand series of actions which would,
in a few days, carry us victorious into Richmond.
On the 25th we Avere successful, and hoped that the
next day we would overcome half the objects lying
between us and the Rebel capital. Thursday, the
26th, came on so still and motionless, that the very
trees seemed to be asleep, and the breath of the
morning Avas without freshness. In the very earliest
hour Ave heard on our right, upon the Chickahominy,
the roar of battle. This Avas the long-continued and
hard-fought battle of Mechanicsville, — Avhere our
troops, placed upon the Beaver Dam, and under the
protection of some beautiful catalpa trees, defended
their position during the entire day, and expelled the
enemy. The attacking force was 60,000; the num
ber of our troops 35,000. At night tidings Avere
brought in, cheering our hearts, that Porter had
achieved a brilliant success.
At this moment a neAv scene opened in the drama,
and a new actor appeared tipon the stage. On Wed
nesday night General Stonewall Jackson reached the
camps on the north side of Richmond. Thursday
found Mm deploying his army upon fhe.rear of our
right wing, compelling the evacuation of our posi
tions before Mechanicsville, and a retreat during; the

REV. WILLIAM DICKSON. 225
night to Gaines's Mills. Friday morning came on, and
so sloAvly do our illusions disappear in the presence
of truth and reality, that though Ave discovered the
firing was much nearer to us than on the previous
day, yet we did not entertain any distinct apprehen
sion that the enemy was coming closer to us, and
that the whole army was already in retreat. On this
day Avas fought the battle of Gaines's Mills, in which
Porter's division so bravely struggled against over-
Avhelming odds.
During this action a dear friend, the Rev. William
Dickson, chaplain of the 12th Pennsylvania Reserves,
ran a perilous journey, which I suppose he has no
desire to renew. He was in an hospital, attending to
the wounded men. The hospital house being in the
shadows of a ravine, the enemy, in order to outflank
us, were pushing several columns up the ravine.
Soon the officers, hurrying back from the points of
attack, shouted to all in the hospitals to flee, for the
enemy was at the door. Mr. Dickson ran up the hill
side, and looMng doAvn the raAdne, could distinctly
see the gleam ofthe enemy's guns; but on the sum
mit he heard the cry, "Lie down ; you are right in
our way." And at the moment there was a roar
from one of our guns, and a shell shrieked by him ;
and knowing that the guns are fired in line, one gun
succeeding another, he marked the flash, ran a feAv
steps, then halting waited for the next thundering
crash, and then again halted, and thus ran with
safety the gauntlet of two batteries. And as often
as they cried to him, "Out of the Avay; you'll be
shot," he replied, "Fire away; I'll take care of my-

226 GLOOMY PROSPECTS.
self," a coolness only gained by being often under
fire. During this day 600 or 700 Avounded men were
brought in from the battle-fields to Savage Station.
For some unknown reason the wrounds were not so
severe as in the previous engagements. Many were
struck in the feet and arms, and the flesh wounds
were more numerous than at the battle of Fair Oaks.
But again were renewed the painful, excruciating
scenes of suffering that paralyzed and benumbed
the faculties ofthe most benevolent. It now began
to be apparent to us that a retreat from our present
position Avas inevitable, and that we must fall back
upon the Pamunky or James River. The former
was the course that the enemy expected us to take :
the retreat upon James River, however, was chosen
by General McClellan. The right Aving of the army
passed the Chickahominy in safety during Friday
night, bringing Avith it nearly all our guns.
On the evening of Friday, the 27th, General McClel
lan changed his head-quarters from near the Chicka
hominy to Savage Station ; and the wounded men
brought in from the field, and couriers arriving at
head-quarters, made us aAvare of the fact that our
right Avas in full retreat across the Chickahominy ;
and now, if not before, the peril of the army stared
us in the face. We kneAv that Jackson was in our rear,
SAveeping down the Pamunky, and would, in a few
hours at most, cut off our communications Avith the
White House. Broken squadrons of troops, and dusty
and Avounded officers, Avere arriving during the entire
night, increasing our consternation. Groups of men
were seen collected together discussing, A'ith anxious

PERIL OF THE ARMY. 227
faces, our probable destiny and fate. In spite of all
that could be done to avoid inquiry, and to throAV us on
a false scent, our real condition began to make itself
sensible to every mind and to blanch a thousand
cheeks. Every Avay Ave looked there Avas destruction
and death. Cut off" from the base of our supplies, in
a country surrounded by our foes, embarrassed by
thousands of wounded and sick men, with all the
avenues of escape closed up, the prospect before us
was most gloomy and appalling.
During the entire night all Avas huriy and confu
sion. Officers arriving in haste and departing in even
greater haste ; orderlies quickened by imperious com
mands to hasten to every part of the army. Con
sternation reigned everywhere ; the uncertainty in re
gard to our future mo\Tements palsied every one. The
gloom of this night Avas greatly increased by the
constant arrival of ambulances bearing the wounded,
of others borne in on stretchers and the shoulders
of their companions, and again, as at Fair Oaks, all
the open grounds around the house of Mr. Savage,
all the floors of the barns and stables and outhouses
were covered with a ghastly multitude, bleeding,
groaning, and dying.
Saturday morning was ushered in with a quiet
unusual and almost unnatural in the Peninsula — not
a gun was fired. This was owing to the fact of the
enemy looMng for us on the banks of the Chicka
hominy, and not anticipating our retreat on James
River. General Stoneman had been detached with
two regiments of infantry and one of cavalry to
amuse and deploy the enemy in the direction of
the Pamunky : this succeeded. We had been twelve

228 COMMUNICATIONS CUT OFF.
hours marching to our new base before the enemy
became aware of our plans. During Saturday our
immense baggage train, between 5000 and 6000
Avagons, Avas dispatched along the Williamsburg
road, followed by the ambulance train ; and during
the day Generals Porter, Sykes, and McCall, with
their divisions, passed over the railroad, taking the
direction towards Williamsburg. Our communica
tions with the White House were not cut off until
ten o'clock on Saturday morning ; for Ave had already
sent down a train of cars filled with wounded men,
and another train was laying at Savage Station with
500 wounded men, waiting the signal to start, when
the telegraphic Avires suddenly ceased working. I
Avas in the telegraphic office when this was an
nounced by the operator. Our wrorst fears Avere now
realized. It was certain the enemy was in our rear.
The train moAred down the road tMee or four miles,
to learn, if possible, the condition of things at the
White House; but failing to hear anything satisfac
tory, it returned to the station ; and for several hours
the poor, broken, maimed men waited and hoped,
and rejected the offer of friendly hands that proposed
to remove them from the cars, and place them on
beds upon the ground.
We Avaited in a state of the most gloomy expecta
tion for tidings from the Wliite House, still hoping
and praying that our fears might be unreal. In
the meantime everything wore an aspect the most
sombre. The wounded had increased to the number of
2000 ; the sick lying in the various hospitals in the
camps and country-houses were brought in and

A SURGEON'S TRIALS. 229
lifted out of the ambulances, and placed on the
ground ; the drivers departed, and without nurses,
physicians, or comrades, they were left in that scene
of misery. Hundreds of these, as I passed along,
beckoned to me, or uttered a low, beseeching cry,
"Doctor, we are not to be left here, are we?" "Is
there no water, doctor?" "Our wounds have not
been dressed for three days." "We have had no
medicines." " I have no blanket, doctor, and suffer
greatly with the cold."
The number of surgeons who had been detailed
for service here was much smaller than was abso
lutely necessary for so many patients demanding care
the most constant and watchful. For such is the
great draft upon the nervous system, that a surgeon
can perform but few capital operations in a day
without complete prostration and danger to his life.
And I soon discovered that a surgeon cannot breathe
the atmosphere poisoned Avith the exhalations of dis
organized flesh and blood, without very soon suffer
ing from an exhaustion wMch appears to palsy every
vital power. And after being for weeks with the
wounded, and dressing a multitude, I learned to be
more merciful in my judgment on physicians in hos
pitals; for I have been often compelled to turn away
from many who came to my tent door, and begged,
with tears, that I would wash and bandage their
wounds, and destroy, with chloroform and spirits of
turpentine, the maggots that tormented them. But
sick and fainting from breathing an air so offensive,
from sights so ghastly, from groans and shrieks of
pain which the most gentle hand must wring from
the sufferer in dressing his wounds, I have fled from
20

230 HARASSING UNCERTAINTY.
what I could no longer endure. I now began to
comprehend the cause of the intense craAing for
stimulants, especially for brandy and whisky, on the
part of surgeons : the exhaustion was thus repaired,
and they were able to endure what Avould have been
otherwise impossible.
All of Saturday was spent in the most wearisome
and distressing uncertainty. There were a thousand
rumors of things most improbable : but we were pre
pared to believe anything, however extravagant, for
Ave were like sailors who, by the sudden wreck of
their noble ship, Avere cast into the sea, and on
broken fragments borne they knew not where, and
in the terror of the hour compelled to anticipate
the greatest misfortune.
As yet the generals and prominent army officers
kept to themselves the purposes of the future. The
soldiers were made to think that they were march
ing to guard the bridges of the Chickahominy. The
whole weight of our disaster did not fall on us to
day. During the day great numbers of wounded
who had fallen near the Chickahominy were brought
in. Many that had been wounded beyond the stream,
in the battle of the previous day, had been left be
hind in the night retreat ; and after incredible hard
ships and dangers, had dragged themselves to the
banks of the river, found some one that pitied them
and helped them over, and now were brought into
the hospital. The tragic scenes and hairbreadth
escapes of that night would fill a volume of as. in
teresting story as was ever published.
We had now at Savage Station about 2500
wounded men. They were lying in the various

DR. JOHN SAVINBURNE. 231
houses before mentioned. Mr. Savage, like an orien
tal, appeared to have built a house for every birth
day and for every child that came to him, and noAV
a man of gray hairs, he was surrounded by a village.
Into all these houses the wounded were borne, and
besides these places of shelter there Avere pitched
fully 300 tents ; for every tent were fifteen or twenty
men. To tMee tents there was assigned a nurse;
and, again, a surgeon to every four or five tents.
These hospital tents being arranged in streets, every
surgeon had his OAvn ward, AAMch might include 100
or 150 patients. There were six or eight surgeons,
mostly brigade surgeons, to whom was assigned the ,
task of amputations. Besides these we were so for
tunate as to have Avith us at this time Dr. John Swin
burne, of Albany, who had been sent to the Army
of the Potomac previous to the battle of Fair Oaks
by Governor Morgan, anticipating that his services
might be of benefit to the soldiers of his State ; and
after having displayed his pre-eminent surgical abili
ties on that occasion, he was again sent, and arrived
just in season to be the greatest of benefactors.
Of this man I cannot speak in terms of too high
praise. He was thoughtless of himself, forgetful even
of the wants of nature, untiring in his labors, uniting
to the highest courage of man the tenderness of a
woman, and the gentleness of a child. In that ter
rible hour, when other surgeons were worn out and
exhausted, no labor appeared to diminish his vigor.
After days of toil and nights of sleeplessness, he was
as fresh and earnest as though he had stepped forth
from a night of quiet sleep ; and while others be
came impatient, and had to escape from those scenes

232 ZEALOUS CHAPLAINS.
and seek repose, he operating for hours at the time,
found relaxation and refreshment in going from tent
to tent, counselling the surgeons, adAdsin,g the nurses,
and speaking words of cheer to the wounded and
the dying.
Dr. Swinburne was left in charge at Savage Station,
and so long as our army was near us, we had phy
sicians for each of the wards ; but on Saturday many
of these were ordered away to join their regiments.
Dr. Smith, of the 105th Pennsylvania, at the hospital
on the railroad, of which I have spoken, was one of
the physicians ordered to Ms regiment, in conse
quence of which all the sick in these hospitals, — the
Meadow Station, Railroad house, and Carter's house,
— were left under my care. It was my custom to
spend several hours each day at Savage Station.
The demand for my labors, hoAvever, Avas not so
great before we became prisoners as afterwards, be
cause there were several chaplains, whose regiments
Avere near, who were enabled frequently to visit the
hospitals. I often met, going from tent to tent, the Rev. Mr.
Guilder, of the 40th New York; the Rev. Mr.
Barnes, of the 26th New York ; the Rev. Mr. Fuller,
ofthe 16th Massachusetts; the Rev. Mr. Glen, ofthe
103d Pennsylvania ; and the Rev. Mr. McAdams, of
the 57th Pennsylvania. There were, doubtless, many
others who faithfully discharged their duties, and
spent much of their time in ministering to the com
fort of our suffering men.
Greatly for the relief of the wounded, there had
arrived, some days previous to the battles, the Rev.
Mr. Reed, of Washington, District of Columbia, who

FELIX BRUNOT. 233
brought with him hospital stores and sanitary goods
contributed by an association in New York. These
Avere faithfuily used, and were of unspeakable bene
fit. To Mr. Reed had been assigned a considerable
number of nurses and assistants, and thus the chari
ties of distant benefactors were borne to eATery tent.
Every two or tMee hours these nurses were sent to
the sickest and most exhausted men Avith nourish
ment, such as hot broth and milk toddy ; and thus
the dimly smoMng flax Avas not Avholly quenched, and
the brmsed reed not broken. Mr. Reed showed
Mmself, through all this time, to be a true man ; and
never was a benefaction more like one sent from
heaven. There was likewise another, a layman, a man whose
name Avill be held in everlasting remembrance by a
multitude whom he fed, clothed, comforted, and
prayed Avith, — Felix Brunot, Esq., of Pittsburg, Penn-
sylvama. He came to us as the representative of a
benevolent association of that city, and brought with
Mm as assistants a number of young men. Some of
these were students, sons of wealthy parents, who
were prompted by the purest benevolence to come
to the army at this critical hour. No man could
have appeared amongst us more eminently fitted for
the time than Mr. Brunot. With a piety most un
affected and sincere, Avith a heart overfloAving with
sympathy, Avith a Mndness that never wearied, he
went forth from tent to tent, ministering to each as
charity would dictate, and as the circumstances de
manded. He had likewise brought with him large
stores of such tMngs as were needed in such a time
as this. Amongst the events that Ave look upon as
20*

234 THE CARNIVAL OF DEATH.
indicative of the kindly providence of God, was the
sending to us for this hour such men as Mr. Brunot
and his fellow-laborers in his work of love ; and
they voluntarily remained, to endure the dangers
and miseries of captivity.
There had been at one time, on Saturday morning
about nine o'clock, very heavy firing ; but the Con
federates, fully assured that our army would fall back
on the Pamunky, made no effort on Saturday to
cross the Chickahominy. But we knew that this
quiet was only for a day. In the meantime, though
one enemy did not appear, another did.
Death came to many ; and the poor fellows that
had died during the night were every morning seen
lying on stretchers outside the tents, and as soon as
possible borne away to the place in the orchard where
all our dead were interred. They were folded up in
their blankets, gently let down in the grave, their
overcoats placed over them ; and if a chaplain was
present a prayer was made, and dust to dust, he was
covered from our sight forever. Very often some
friends would carve on a board the name, company,
and regiment of the deceased, and the place of his
birth. A large number of the noblest men of our
army lie around Savage Station, and to a thousand
hearts the spot is sacred, for their dead are there.
It was one of the saddest scenes of those battle
days to meet in the eA^ening some one who spoke
strongly of Ms hopes of life, of return to his home,
and how soon his mother or Avife would have him
well, and in the morning return and find his place
empty. He had died in the night : we would step
out from the tent, lift the blanket from the face, and

RETREAT TO JAMES RIVER. 235
there, cold and silent, was the companion of y ester
day. Death often impresses a most noble look on
the brow, as if the dying one had caught glimpses
of the grandeur of the Infinite, and it left its impress
in the majestic solemnity of his face. Often did I
find the face singularly placid and composed, and
much more beautiful than in life.
During the entire day of Saturday the various regi
ments and columns of the right wing marched by
Savage Station, taMng the Williamsburg road for
the James River. The advance was very slow, for
beyond our own line we knew nothing of the enemy,
and therefore there were frequent halts of our army
for throAving out sMrmishers and scouts. In a re
gion of almost impervious swamps and forests it was
easy to entrap an army into an ambuscade, and there
fore the necessity for the greatest caution. In this
region invaluable aid was given to us by the negroes.
They were our only guides in the entangled mazes
We had not the slightest knowledge, from previous
reconnoissances, of this forbidding region. This
greatly increased, therefore, the disadvantages under
which we advanced and struggled, and tMew a deeper
gloom over the army; and the question Avas often
asked : " Why had not all this country been fully
explored ? Why not all these roads long since felt
by our cavalry ? Surely somebody has been asleep ! "'

236 ADVANCE OF THE ENEMY.

CHAPTER XVI.
Sunday, June 29th.
Consternation and Alarm in the Hospital — Scene at Savage Sta
tion — 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. Sabbath morning dawned upon us, one of the
clearest and warmest mornings of summer. All that
could arise were up with the earliest light, for we
knew this was to be a day of important events, and
were very uncertain of beholding the setting sun.
I went from room to room, prescribed for the
patients, ordered breakfast, gathered the nurses, and
gave them the instructions for the day. At the same
time I sent out two of the nurses to report the
appearance of affairs about us, and if anything could
be seen of the enemy, or if our troops were visible.
They soon returned, reporting that several regi
ments were drawn up in line of battle near us, and
that the officers of our army had recommenced our
removal from the hospital, for it might be in a feAV
moments in the midst of a battle-field. For the
enemy was crossing the Chickahominy below us,
and would most certainly advance upon our troops
through the ravines leading up from the valley, past
the house Ave Avere in.

ALARM AT THE HOSPITAL. 237
I went out into the fields, and saw the long, dark
lines of Meagher's Irish Brigade drawn up on the
bluffs overlooMng the river. I saAV most distinctly
the tents of the enemy in the open fields on the
opposite heights, and heard the sound of axes and
hammers at work cutting a road and constructing a
bridge. In a few moments Colonel Burke, of the 63d New
York, rode up to the gate of the hospital, called for
me, and strongly urged the removal of all the in
mates, as the probability was now almost a certainty,
that in a few moments the enemy would rush up
and plant their batteries in the field about us, and
the house and barns would be seized by one party
and the other alternately as the places of rallying
and defence. He said he had been instructed by
General Meagher to warn us, and urge our removal.
I answered the colonel that we were without am
bulances ; that every one had been ordered aAvay ;
that we had not one wagon, and were without horses,
except my saddle horse and baggage pony ; that we
had not more than six men well enough to help the
others away; and for these to remove one hundred
and fifty sick men, some of them in a dying con
dition, was simply impossible. We would have to
remain and trust to God, as we had done before.
The Mnd-hearted colonel was unwilling to leave
us in a condition which he deemed so desperate, and
he lingered several minutes, trying to counsel and de
vise some way for our escape. He said he would send
men, if possible, from his regiment ; but every man
was needed at his post, and if he did, he could not
take the responsibility, for the place to Avhich he

238 SCENE AT SAVAGE STATION.
bore our men might be the spot of the severest
carnage. But he urged me to ride up to head-quar
ters, to state our condition and the prospect for a
battle around us, and urge, Avith all the eloquence
possible, our instant removal. I thought it due to
him and the men of whom I had charge, to follow
his advice. I rode with all haste to Savage Station.
As I approached it, I beheld the long lines of army
Avagons and ambulances stretching for miles, slowly
retiring in the direction of James River. When I
reached General Heintzleman's tent, I found every
thing foreshadowed an immediate removal ; generals
Avere there for council and commands — orderlies
hurrying backAvards and forwards in the wildest haste
— surgeons, commissaries, colonels, crowding for
directions and help. Now comes in a captain, Avith
clothes torn and sword bent, with the tidings that
the wagon train was hopelessly locked, and the
troops were unable to proceed ; then comes another,
reporting that the enemy was crossing the Chicka
hominy at the Grapevine Bridge, and might be soon
upon us. Another, that Jackson and his troops had
taken the White House, and destroyed stores and
transports. Another announced that the woods were
full of scouts and spies of the enemy, who were
stealing across in small squads, and even now cap
turing sick officers and small parties who had strayed
into the by-roads. All these announcements created
a fresh commotion, and orderlies were despatched
Avith messages, and officers Avith commands.
The general issued the orders with all the calm
ness of one familiar with the greatest dangers. He
listened most kindly to my statement, and told me

DEVOTION OF MR. BRUNOT. 239
that nothing could be done to help me ; that all the
wounded at Savage Station would have to be left
behind, and that General McClellan had ordered all
the ambulances to depart unencumbered ; that four
or five thousand wounded and sick men would so
embarrass the army that escape might be impossible ;
and that much as it was to be regretted, it was a
matter of stern necessity to leave our wounded
in the hands of the enemy.
I asked him what he deemed my duty under the
circumstances; that I could not now see Colonel
Hays or General Kearney, and felt uncertain Avhat,
in this posture of affairs, they would desire me to do.
He replied: "I cannot advise you. If you remain,
you Avill become a prisoner ; no man can tell you what
you may have to endure ; you will lose all. You
have no commands holding you here, and if you
please to go with the army, no one ought to blame
you." I had hoped he Avould order me to remain, for to
leave the men under my charge I felt was dishonor
able and cruel, and with them I had resolved to
stay, live or die ; but I wished to be defended in
my position by the command of such a man. I left
the general's tent, and soon found my friend, Mr.
Brunot, and learned that he, Avith that true, unflinch
ing, and martyr-like devotion to the cause which he
deemed to be right, which pre-eminently distin
guished him, had resolved to remain and share the
sorrow and captivity of those Avho had poured out
their blood for their country.
I was strengthened in my purpose by this heroic
resolve, and rode back through the forest to Car-

240 ADVICE TO SICK AND WOUNDED.
ter's house, for the first time fully realizing the fate
before us, and thanking God that it was my privi
lege to aid and comfort men who had borne greater
hardships, and braved greater dangers, than I had
been called to meet. When I reached the hospital,
the lines of our forces were still standing under
arms, facing the valley, and each moment expecting
the appearance of the enemy from the forests on the
stream. I had as soon as possible the officers and men as
sembled under the shadow of a mulberry tree in our
back grounds. All the sick who could walk, or be
assisted, were likewise brought down.
I read to them a short portion of the New Testa
ment, and then explained to them the actual position
of things; that our army was retreating towards
James River, and that our division had already
started ; and I adAdsed such of them as felt they could
walk a few miles to fall into the retiring columns;
that some Mnd-hearted driver might permit them to
ride, or that with the troops, if they should faint, some
way would be provided to carry them on ; that even
if they should have to stop every few rods, it would
be better than to fall into the hands ofthe enemy. I
entreated the stronger to help the weaker; that God
would send his angels to strengthen and defend
them, if they, like the good Samaritan, lifted up
and aided those who were ready to perish by the
way; that the stores should be opened, and every
man provided with all he needed.
I likewise told them that I had now no apprehen
sion that the enemy would cross the river below us,
for they were crossing one mile higher up ; to take

ADVICE TO SICK AND AVOUNDED. 241
their time, and pack up what they thought they
could carry ; if they could bear their guns, to take
them ; they might be better to-morrow, and able to
strike another blow ; and that I hoped they would
remember their safety was not in any human arm or
defence, but in the watchful care of that God in
whose hand was their breath and all their ways ; if
they fell down exhausted, to pray to Him ; if they
could not rise again, and were left alone, to lift their
eyes to Him to whom the dying thief looked and
hoped, and died in peace. If they fell into the hands
of the enemy, to trust God, and even their enemies
should be made at peace with them ; and if taken
captives, not to be ashamed of their cause, but to
defend it boldly. " Do not let the enemy think that
our soldiers are Avithout consciences or principles.
They are rebels and traitors, but you are the sol
diers of law, and the representatives of the princi
ples for which our fathers fought ; and do not for
get that a prisoner does not part with all his rights,
and though deprived of his gun, he is still at liberty
to defend his government and her constitution."
Those who were too ill to think of making the
effort to escape I adAdsed to endure patiently their
fate, and to remember that there were thousands of
their brave companions-in-arms that were in a worse
condition than themselves ; and that lying at Sav
age Station were many of these that had to be left
behind, but to bear calmly what was one of the in
evitable calamities of war.
We then sang together the beautiful hymn com
mencing, "Jesus, my God, I know His name."
21

242 SCENE IN THE HOSPITAL.
I then prayed with them, and committed each one
and their families to Him in whose sight they were
of "more value than many sparrows."
After the service Avas concluded, the agitation that
had reigned in all minds was evidently stilled, and
each felt that we were safer, because we had in
voked the Divine protection ; but the inquiry began
to run from lip to lip : "Doctor, what are you going
to do ? Are you going to leave us ? What will be
come of us, if you forsake us?" I soon relieved
their apprehensions on this score by telling them
that I would never leave them ; and I was more than
compensated for all the suffering that followed by
the gratitude and blessing of many.
While I was yet speaking, Mr. Douglass, one of
the nurses in the hospital over which Dr. Smith had
presided, came to me and said that more than half
of the patients in that hospital had left in pursuit of
the army, and that the remainder desired to come
over and place themselves under our care. He went
back, and in a few moments, on stretchers and in
the arms of their companions, the sick were brought
to us ; and soon after Mr. Luke, the hospital stew
ard, and Sergeant Temple, came in, having followed
the army some distance, and finding the woods full
of the enemy, had returned. I Avas again urged by
officers and men to go up to Savage Station, and as
certain the state of things now, for possibly there
might be some change. I could find at least what
Avould be the best road for them to take in retreat. I
went again to the Station, and learned from my
friend, Colonel S. McKelvy, that the order had al
ready been issued for the destruction of all remaining

THE PICKETS AVITH DRAWN. 243
ammunition and commissary stores. He then in
formed me that the long train of cars, forty or fifty
in number, was being loaded with shells, kegs of
powder, and cartridges, and that in a feAV minutes
the work of destruction would begin. I could see,
mounting above the trees, the flames from the vast
commissary stores at Fair Oaks Station.
I entreated Colonel McKelvy to permit me to
place in the cars a barrel of coffee, tAventy boxes of
crackers, a bag of rice, three or four barrels of po
tatoes, and tMee barrels of dried apples. This he
had done himself, and ordered the engineer to run
down the road as far as MeadoAV Station and the
Railroad house, and throw off for us these articles,
and such other things as Avere likely to be in de
mand. TMs was done, and thus Avas secured to us the food
that preserved our lives for a fortnight. When I re
turned to the hospital at Carter's house, our troops
had been removed and concentrated around Savage
Station ; but as they were marching aAvay one of the
colonels rode up to the gate and said he Avas with
drawing his pickets, and that it Avas highly probable
the enemy would be there in less than half an hour,
and urged all to make their escape. As I ap
proached the house through the fields, I beheld a
long, scattered line of the patients staggering away,
some carrying their guns, and supporting a com
panion on an arm, — others tottering feebly over a
staff which they appeared to have scarcely strength
to lift up. One was borne upon the shoulders of
two of his companions, in the hope that Avhen he
had gone a little distance he might be able to Avalk.

244 COLONEL KIRKWOOD.
One had already sat down fainting from the exer
tion of a few steps ; some had arisen from the first
rest, staggered forward a few steps and fell in the
road, but after a few moments in the open air, and
stimulated by the fear ofthe enemy, they could walk
more strongly. Never have I beheld a spectacle
more touching and more sad. They retired one by
one across the fields, and were lost in the forest;
and of all that throng of sick and wounded men not
more than five or six fell into the hands of the
enemy ; the rest struggled forward until they reached
the army, and borne on by a living stream, knew not
how they were carried forward.
Of the number that left us on this day Avere
several officers, and amongst the rest Colonel Kirk-
Avood, of the 63d Pennsylvania, Avho had for two
Aveeks been confined to the hospital with typhoid
fever ; and when he resolved to escape he had to be
lifted on his horse, and attended by his colored ser
vant left us to find, if possible, his regiment. But
after going out into the forest, the black boy was
frightened at the appearance of some Confederate
soldiers near them, and at once fled, leaving the
colonel unable to guide his horse, and at the mercy
of the enemy. Just at this juncture one of our
nurses, by the name of Scott, of the 57th Pennsyl
vania, who had gone some distance with his com
rades to help them, Avas returning, and seeing the
colonel, generously went to his assistance, led his
horse, and held him on until he saw him safe in the
bosom of the army.
I returned to Savage Station, taking nurses Avith
me for the purpose of securing such articles as would

DESTRUCTION OF ARMY STORES. 245
be needed at the hospital, and would otherwise bs
destroyed. About noon the work of destruction commenced,
and no language can paint the spectacle. Hundreds
of barrels of flour and rice, sugar and molasses, salt,
and coffee, Avere consigned to the flames ; and great
heaps of these precious articles in a few moments
lay scorching and smouldering. A long line of
boxes of crackers, fifteen feet high, were likewise
throAvn into the mass; and the workmen seemed
to have a savage and fiendish joy in consigning
to the flames what a feAV days afterwards they Avould
have given thousands to obtain. The scene was
altogether unearthly and demoniac. The men,
blackened with smoke and cinders, were hurling
into the fire boxes of goods, tents, fragments of
broken cars, and barrels of whisky and turpentine ;
and then would be hurled into the burning mass
boxes of ammunition, and explosion followed ex
plosion, throAving up fragments of shells into the
heavens, and the flames mounted above the tops of
the loftiest trees. The ammunition was not so easily
disposed of, and shells, kegs of powder, etc., were
placed in the cars.
The engine attached to this train was ready at
any moment to spring on the track; each of the
cars was set on fire, and when the flames began to
wind around the wooden structures the train was
put in motion. Being a descending grade it was
soon rushing with the wildest fury, and every revo
lution of the wheels added to the volume of the
flames, until the eye ceased to see the structure of
the cars, and only beheld a terrific monster, which,
21 * •

246 THE BURNING TRAIN.
like some huge serpent of fire, had come forth to
add a new feature of horror to the scene. On and
on it rushed, with a tread which caused the hills to
tremble. I could not think of anything as a suit
able representation of a spectacle so grand, but that
of a thousand thunderbolts chained together, and
Avreathed with lightnings, rushing with scathing fury
and the roar of the tornado over the trembling earth.
In a few seconds the engine, cars, and wheels were
nothing but one long chain of fire, a frightful me
teor flasMng past us.
The distance from Savage Station to the CMcka-
hominy is about two and a half miles. I had placed
myself on one of the eminences near our hospital,
from which I could command a fine view of the rail
road and the coming train. I knew that the long
bridge over the river Avas burned. It plunged past
me like some vast monster from a sea of fire. On
it thundered until there was a stupendous crash,
and far up in the heavens were thrown burning
fragments of the cars. This was instantly succeeded
by the explosion of innumerable great bombs and
kegs of powder. Noav a great shell dashed into
the air with a Avild and angry shriek — this burst
and left behind a flash of flame ; and again another
darted forth and tore with fury through the branches
of forest trees ; and bomb after bomb sprang from
the fiery mass, hissing and screaming like fiends
in agony, and coursing in every direction through
the forests and the clear heavens. Crash came after
crash for many minutes ; and again some great shell
exploded under the waters, and threw far up a jet
of the stream, to which, as it fell in drops and spray,

CHEERING REPORTS. 247
the light of the evening sun gave more than the
splendor of ten thousand diamonds.
Rarely, I believe, has there been a spectacle of
greater Avonder and grandeur. Such was the mo
mentum of this train, that when it reached the chasm
it sprang out fully forty feet, and the engine and first
car leaped over the first pier in the stream, and there
hangs suspended one of the most impressive monu
ments of the Peninsular disasters.
I spent most of this day at Savage Station. I
wished to be near the great centre of intelligence,
and learn, if possible, what was to be the fate of our
army. During these anxious hours we were at one
time comforted by the report that General Burnside
had landed on James River Avith large reinforce
ments, and was then marching to our relief. But
this, on reflection, Avas dismissed as fabulous ; and
we turned again to look our real condition in the
face. About three o'clock in the afternoon General
Heintzleman, surrounded by the officers of his staff,
mounted his horse. The officers and soldiers who
still lingered Avith their companions, now prepared
to leave. And many a manly cheek Avas wet with
tears as they bade farewell to those whom they never
expected to meet again. Fathers had to drag them
selves away from the couches of their sons ; and
after they had gone a few steps, would return to
look once more, and to renew the oft-repeated in
structions to nurse and surgeon. There were many
sad partings. Up to this time the disabled had not
known that they Avere to be left behind ; and when
it became manifest that such was to be their fate,

248 DEVOTED NURSES.
the scene could not be pictured by human language.
Some wounded men, who were left in their tents,
struggled through the grounds, exclaiming they
"Avould rather die than fall into the hands of tbe
Rebels." I heard one man crying out, "0 my God!
is this the reAvard I deserve for all the sacrifices I
have made, the battles I have fought, and the agony
I have endured from my wounds." Some of the
younger soldiers Avept like children ; others turned
pale, and some fainted. Poor fellows ! they thought
this was the last drop in the cup of bitterness, but
there were yet many to be added.
The surgeons who were on duty in the hospitals
joined their regiments, and not more than one-third
of those who had before been with us remained. The
names of some of these are found in subsequent
pages ; and it gives me great regret that I have not
the names of all those who remained, thereby incur
ring all the sufferings and losses of captivity.
More than one-half of the nurses left us and joined
the long procession of sick and wounded, which was
greatly increased by the straggling mass of men
who had lost their regiments. Some nurses who
might have gone remained with the sick and
wounded, to endure privation, want, and incessant
toil. I wish I had their names. I would invite all
the towns and villages of which they are citizens
to honor them as deserving more than a wreath of
laurel. About four o'clock Ave saw moving over the plain
opposite to us the last of the ambulances and wagons,
retiring in the distance, and the light of the evening
sun was reflected in dazzling brilliance from the

THE REAR-GUARD. 249
guns of the departing regiments. Here and there
was a horseman galloping through the the dust; but
the great throng of dashing officers, of plumed cav
alry, of regiments with AvaAdng banners and music,
had passed away like the dream of a brilliant tour
nament. We were not, however, yet quite aban
doned. Opposite to Savage Station, looMng north,
is a large plain of several hundred acres. On the
furthest line of this is the Williamsburg road, and
beyond is a dark pine forest. The field gradually
ascends from the station to the road. On this field
were standing in line of battle 20,000 men under
General Sumner, the rear-guard of the army, left to
hold m check the enemy until our troops were safe
beyond White Oak Swamp.
General Sumner commanded his own corps and
part of Heintzleman's and Franklin's. For hours
they stood in this open field, Avaiting the approach
ofthe enemy — thousands of them still and motion
less as statues. Now and then a soldier would start
out of the dark line and come down to the station
for water, bearing his own and his comrades' can
teens. And when he returned all were as silent and
motionless as before. Seldom have I seen anything
in my life more impressive and morally grand than
that presented by this rear-guard of the army. Reg
iment after regiment, and division after division,
filed by them, — long trains of wagons and ambu
lances passed through the ranks, but they moved
not. All faces amongst them wore the expression
of heroic sacrifice. The fate of the army was in
their hands, and they were determined it should be
saved; and there was no flinching when they were

250 AN ARTILLERY DUEL.
left alone without supports and reserves. Never was
there assembled a nobler body of men, and rarely
was there a sublimer spectacle.
About five o'clock, p. m., we saw rising up in the
field towards the Chickahominy a great cloud of
dust. Very soon afterwards there burst upon us the
thunder of artillery, and from the upper rooms of
the Savage House we could see the approaching col
umns of the enemy.
The first balls discharged from the enemy's guns
fell amongst our wounded men, and the pains of one
poor sufferer were at an end. Dr. Swinburne im
mediately sent forth a flag of truce, saying that the
house was an hospital, and the grounds around it were
crowded Avith wounded men. General Jackson ex
pressed his regret, and had the direction of his guns
changed. Then commenced a magnificent artillery
duel. Shell met shell in the heavens from the con
tending cannon, and battery responded to battery,
until it was one continued and unceasing roar of the
mightiest thunder. For an hour not a musket was
fired, — the lines of the army remained motionless.
Suddenly the Avhole mass of the enemy's forces
sprang forward Avith Avild yells and screams like
Camanche Indians, and hurried past us into the open
field in front of our troops. At this moment it ap
peared to me I could see long streams of fire, like
serpents' tongues, dart from our many thousand mus
kets, and louder than the roar swelled up the shout
of defiance. Beaten back by this leaden storm, the
enemy Avavered and retreated a few steps to the rail
road. But soon after troops coming up behind them,
pressed the front line once more into the field.

BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION. 251
Again there leaped from ten thousand guns the fiery
blast, and yell answered yell. Now the whole field
was so covered with the pall of battle we could see
nothing but the vivid flash from the cannon, like
the lightnmg darting out of a cloud, and the mus
kets in the hands of our men pointed towards us,
still vomiting forth streams of flame. For a moment
there would be a pause, a lull in the battle, to be
succeeded by the instantaneous discharge of five
thousand guns ; and then, as if the contending hosts
had been stung to frenzy, the rage of the contest
was redoubled. The clash of arms was occasionally
interrupted by the coming into the field of fresh reg
iments, cheering their companions Avith loud shouts.
The dullest ear could perceive the difference between
the voices of our men and those of the enemy. Ours
shouted m clear, ringing, and manly tones, while the
enemy's sounded like the scream ofthe panther and
the yell of the savage.
At one time in the conflict there Avas the simul
taneous discharge of two thousand muskets, as if
men had fired m each other's faces. It was a moment
I shall never forget ; the thought of the crushing,
the piercing, and the agony ; the life-blood gushing
out; the strong arm palsied, and the bright eye
darkened forever; the many souls appearing the
same instant before God, — all brought to the heart
overwhelming emotions, as if in a moment I had
lived years. This I afterwards learned was occasioned
by two regiments, the 5th Vermont and the 11th
Alabama, finding themselves within ten feet of each
other. In the cloud of battle and shades of the
evening, neither were certain of the character of the

252 BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION.
other : both withheld their fire. Some of the offi
cers of the Vermonters were anxious to fire and
charge, but the colonel could not give an order that
might be fatal to friends and brothers. He there
fore advanced in front of his regiment, and called
out aloud, "What regiment is that?"
For a moment there was no reply; when there
was the response, "What regiment is yours ? "
" The 5th Vermont."
"Then," cried the Rebel commander, "in God's
name take it, fire!" — and the men, looMng into
each other's eyes, placed their guns against each
other's bosoms and fired. How many of the enemy
fell I know not, but I understood two hundred of
the brave Vermonters were left on the field. Some
of these I afterwards saw, and from them received
this account. The battle continued to rage with
unabated fury until about half past eight o'clock;
then the firing gradually slackened, the cannon of
the enemy ceased to reply to ours, and the discharges
of musketry from their side became more and more
distant, and at random. Now and then the battle
Avould for five or ten minutes burst out afresh, some
portion of the Confederates retiring from the field
would wander near our lines, be attacked, turn on
us and rally for a moment, and then flee. At nine
o'clock they were all gone, and not a sound arose
from the field and forests but the groans of the dying,
and the calls for help. This was one of the most
desperate conflicts of the Peninsula.
The force of the enemy must have been far greater
than ours, for I learned from their officers that fully
fifty thousand men were dashed on our rear-guard

BATTLE OF SAVAGE STATION. 253
But nobly and grandly were they repulsed ; and when
the final cheer of victory arose from our columns,
and regiments in forest, rifle-pit, and field answered
each other, and the great shout of triumph could be
heard for miles, there Avas not a solitary derisive cry
in ansAver. The victory was complete ; well did our
rear-guard fulfil their trust, and hurl back the forces
which were pressing from behind to tM'Ow us into
confusion, and secure the capture and destruction
of a large part of our army. The repulse of that
evening enabled our columns and baggage trains to
place between us and the enemy the difficult and,
in mostplaces, impassable slough, White Oak Swamp.
The retreat under such circumstances, in the presence
of two armies, each of equal strength with our own,
was most hazardous. We had for our vast wagon
and ambulance trains, and parks of artillery, but one
road ; and along this narrow passage-way, thus en
cumbered, our entire army had to retire, and if our
rear had been defeated and pressed by an active
enemy, the result must have been fatal to thousands.
But to General Sumner and the gallant men whom
he commanded is the gratitude due of holding in
check an enemy double our strength.
The anxiety Avhich he felt during the progress of
the battle can never be told. During the early part
of the engagement we could see clearly the move
ments of the troops in that portion of the battle
fought in the open field ; but as the cloud became
dark and night came on, we could see nothing but
the blaze of musketry and the fiery burst of cannon.
But still Ave felt certain that our men held their own,
for there Avas no change in their positions, and Ave

254 GENERAL BURNS.
could hear distinctly the commands of our officers.
But as the strife thickened, and the thunder became
more appalling, all hearts stood still: the devout
prayed, the timid Avept and hid themselves, the
pulses of the Avildest excitement bounded in the
veins of the true soldiers ; and great was our relief
when it became certain that our forlorn hope had
sustained itself and beaten back the foe.
From some of the officers of our army who were
in the columns marching towards White Oak Swamp,
I have heard that the roar of battle as it came from
the rear was maj estic. The night was unusually calm,
not a breath of air stirred the trees, and all nature
around them was asleep ; but from one spot came
the sound of the most terrible tumult, as if, while
the whole world slept, on one point had been let
loose all the elements of destruction and terror. A
dark cloud rolled up in the heavens, angry flashes
of light darted over its face, the earth trembled, and
there came out of the bosom of the forest the voices
of the most terrible tempest.
I heard it stated at the time, amongst the inci
dents of this battle, that the enemy had driven
column after column, after his usual manner, to
break our centre. Here Avas General Burns, Avith
clothes and hat pierced, and face covered with blood :
— the general still rallied and cheered his men. At
length two companies, concluding that all would be
Mlled who remained there, commenced deliberately
marching off the field. General Burns expostulated,
entreated, commanded them, all in vain. At length,
taking off his torn hat and throwing it down, he
besought them not to disgrace themselves and their

DISGRACEFUL RETREAT. 255
general. This last appeal was successful, they re
turned and fought more desperately to wipe out the
cowardice of a moment.
Never was there a more impressive spectacle than
that presented by this retreat of the " Grand Army."
This vast body of men, well trained, fully equipped,
and equalling in courage any army which the world
has ever seen, eager for the fight, asMng but for
generals to lead them on to victory, was, after having
almost knocked at the door of the Rebel stronghold,
retreating in haste — at the command of one man —
who, however distinguished for ability in one depart
ment of military science, in every hour of danger was
a child, and in every great emergency Avas oppressed
with conscious incapacity. After the enemy was re
pulsed at the battle of "Savage Station," General
Sumner sent to General McClellan for, as he ex
pressed himself, " orders to push the enemy into the
Chickahominy." General McClellan's reply was, that
"the rear-guard would follow the retreat of the main
body of the army." On the reception of this com
mand, the greatest consternation and displeasure
reigned among both officers and men. Many openly
rebelled — they wished to sacrifice themselves in any
way, rather than by a disgraceful retreat. But at
length order reigned, and the rear-guard took up their
line of march, slowly toiling through mud and marshy
plains, and the grey light of dawn found them safe
beyond the White Oak Swamp. Many most in
teresting incidents occurred during this forced march.
I have heard of the lady and little child, an infant
of but a few mouths, Avhose smiles shed a radiance
upon all around them; and the tired soldiers were

256 EX-GOVERNOR AVOOD.
nerved to fresh endurance of the Aveary march by
the presence of these delicate ones, who shared their
hardships and fatigue. They were the Avife and child
of General Richardson, of Michigan — a brave and
noble officer — who afterwards died of wounds re-
cei\-ed at the battle of Antietam. His wife had spent
much time in camp with him, and was looked upon
as a good angel by the soldiers Avho had been favored
Avith her gentle ministrations. Ex-Governor Wood,
of Illinois, was present on this occasion, and though
only a civilian, greatly assisted the officers by his
counsel and cheering advice. Many times when the
long train of wagons seemed hoplessly locked, did
he, by a word fitly spoken, untie the Gordian knot,
and set them once more in motion. At other times
his venerable form, with snowy beard and hair, could
be seen riding through the ranks, encouraging the
faint-hearted, and shaming the cowardly by sharing
all their dangers and privations ; and such was his
influence, that, under his eye, none complained, but
marched solemnly on, grimly determining to Avipe
out this disgrace by future victories.
During the night General Sumner withdrew his
batteries and troops unmolested, and before the
enemy was apprised of it, Avas five miles on the
way to James River.
I have never seen any official report of our losses
in this battle, but I heard that General SedgAvick
lost in his division six hundred men. He occupied
the most dangerous and fatal part of the field. I
presume our killed and wounded were not less than
one thousand. Most of the last were gathered up
by ambulances, and brought into Savage Station,

GENERAL SUMNER. 257
but numbers were found on Monday and Tuesday
by the enemy, and sent to Richmond.
It may not be inappropriate to say here that no
small part of the praise for the successful retreat of
our army is due to General Sumner. Like an iron
Avail he breasted the foe at Savage Station, when he
stood between the enemy, flushed with victory and
confident in our continuous defeat, and our exhausted
and desponding army. Again, on the next day, at
Glendale, he infused his invincible courage into all
his command. The disposition of the troops at the
battle of Malvern Hill Avas knoAvn to have been
made by him; and, in the absence of General
McClellan, General Sumner, during most of that
memorable day, commanded the army. The en
ergy infused into every corps and company, and the
bold confidence which sprang up in the bosoms ol
worn, exhausted, hopeless men, displayed the pre
sence and power of a master spirit.

22*

258 MORNING AFTER THE BATTLE.

CHAPTER XVII.
Monday Morning, June 30iA.
Silence of the Morning after the Battle — The Rebel Soldier
reconnoitring — The Surrender of the Hospitals — Refusal of
German Marines to surrender — German Soldier at Meadow
Station — Peril of Chaplain Sloan — Conversation with a Con
federate Officer, Captain Taylor, of New Kent.
Immediately after the close of the battle of the
previous evening, a violent thunder-storm had come
up ; and so suddenly did this burst upon us, that
for a time we thought it Avas a renewal of the bat
tle. This served to purify the air, and was refresh
ing to the wounded lying on the field.
The morning came to us cloudless and calm. Very
early I went forth to discover the actual condition
of things. I advanced to the highest point in the
field, and looked down on the main road, the rail
road, and a dark pine forest. There was no sign of
the presence of the enemy. Our army had. disap
peared ; and in field and forest, where a few hours
before had been a most terrific tumult, and the
voices of thousands shouting in defiance or triumph,
not a sound came forth, not a soldier moved along
the roads ; the tents were silent, and the fields de
serted. The scene reminded me of the sublime
vision of the prophet : " I beheld, and lo ! there was

REBELS RECONNOITRING. 259
no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled ;
I beheld, and lo ! the fruitful place was a wilderness,
and all the cities were broken down."
While I was asMng myself, " Who shall next ap
pear on this stage?" I perceived an object that in
stantly fixed all my attention ; this was a Rebel soldier
about forty rods from me, creeping along towards
the railroad ; very fortunately he did not see me. I
was standmg in the open field ; he was crouching
under the branches of the trees, and after the man
ner of a scout, was creeping from point to point,
then stopping and minutely surveying the scene. I
followed Ms example, and with a step of furry soft
ness hastened to a neighboring fence, and there
watched him ; and from this point of concealment,
I observed Ms movements with the deepest interest.
After disappearing, and again appearing, he was
finally lost to my eye. I hastened back to the hos
pital, fully assured that we would know the fate
reserved for us in a few moments. I had the nurses
aroused, breakfast served, the rooms cleansed, and
the house put in order, for I knew not but that Cap
tain Carter might be one of our visitors.
About seven a. m. we saw in the distance a troop
of cavalry. They had come out of the forest ; and
on seeing our house were halted for orders ; their
swords Avere drawn, and with a wild dash, leaping
ravines and fences, they rode up to our gate.
As soon as we saw them in the distance, I had all
the men called to come within the house : this com
mand was obeyed before given.
When the cavalry drew up at the gate, the officer
in command shouted aloud :

260 surrender of the hospital.
"Who is in command here?"
I was standing on the portico, and stepped out
and answered, "I am in command."
"You are a surgeon, are you not?"
"No, captain, I am a chaplain, but in command of
this hospital and the one at Meadow Station."
"Ah," said he, " and how many men have you ? "
"At both places, about two hundred and thirty,"
I replied. "Are any of them able to travel?"
"Not one ; all such left us yesterday."
"Have you any personal property here ? for all you
have shall be respected. Is that your horse ? "
"Yes, sir, and the pony."
"Well, they shall not be disturbed, and nothing
that you have shall be taken ; but all the arms and
the clothing of the officers who have left are ours,
of course."
He then alighted, came into the house, spoke very
kindly to the men, and went from room to room,
assuring the sick that they had no reason to fear ;
they should be well treated. But such was the agi
tation produced in some cases of extreme nerATous
debility, that I was apprehensive of the worst re
sults. One young man was with great difficulty
revived from the shock.
In a few moments the dragoons were seated around
the table in the background, chatting in the live
liest way, drinMng coffee, and eating such food as
we could provide. They were loud in their praises
of Jackson, and spoke in the highest terms of his
bravery and piety; they recounted the brilliant feats
performed by them in the last feAV days ; and all

A NOBLE TEXAN. 261
united in assuring us that our entire army was bag
ged ; that Jackson, Longstreet, and the Hills were
in our rear and left flank, Magruder and Huger in
front and on our right flank, and that escape was
impossible ; that they expected to have to fight an
other battle, and then the Grand Army of the Poto
mac would live only in history and song.
In answer to my inquiries, they assured me that
the force under Jackson was about 35,000, and that
40,000 troops had arrived in Richmond Avithin a few
days from the army of Beauregard ; and that they
supposed their entire force was 150,000. They ex
pressed great surprise when I told them that our
army had not more than 70,000 effective men ; and
that Porter's corps, 35,000 strong, had in the first
day's engagement defeated and driven back 60,000,
and in the second day's fight had been overpowered
by double their numbers.
They predicted a speedy peace, but most solemnly
affirmed that a return to the old Union was, under
any circumstances, impossible. "No," said they,
" if you were to get down on your knees to us we
would not come back." The leader of this band
was a Texan, and evidently a kind, generous-hearted
man. I subsequently saw him in Richmond, where
he alighted from his horse, and came a considerable
distance to shake hands, and to inquire if he could
aid me in any way. Before he left, he gave me a
paper, authorizing me to exercise full authority in
the hospital, to retain all the stores on hand, and
commanding all officers and soldiers of the Confed
erate army to respect these orders; and for our pro-

262 IGNORANT REBELS.
tection he left a sergeant of the 16th Mississippi, of
the name of Houeb.
After they left us small numbers of soldiers came
to the hospital several times, asking for bread or
water ; they were humble and polite, requesting per
mission even to enter the Mtchen. I found from
coiwersation Avith many of these that more than
two-thirds of them could not read ; they were very
ignorant and very dirty; some clothed in a light,
linsey-woolsey grey, and others in butternut brown.
As a general thing they knew nothing of the causes
of the war, but supposed they were called to re
pel us from going South, taking their negroes,
and giving all the lands of their country to the
slaves. They acknowledged that our troops were
very different from what they had anticipated ; they
found them far braver than they had been led to be
lieve. " Some of your men," said they, " fought
like tigers, and when defeated did not run, but
turned at bay, and fought as men who had made up
their minds to die. We knew that the Illinois and
Indiana troops were desperate felloAvs, and could
generally beat us, for they are stronger men than
ours, but we had not expected such hard play from
the Yankees." Then they talked for tAvo hours, and
were perfectly at home with us.
After they had gone I took the guard who had
been left for our protection, and walked over to
Meadow Station. Here again I found that the shock
arising from the presence of the enemy had seriously
imperilled the lives of some who Avere in a fair way
of recovery. Seated amongst the sick soldiers on
the porch under the shadow ofthe trees were many

BRAVE MARINES. 263
ofthe Confederates, engaged in animated discussions,
and each magnifying his exploits.
While here I learned that twenty marines, mostly
Germans, had that morning come up along the rail
road from below the White House, determined to
find out what had become of our army. They had
by some means passed through the enemy's lines,
and on reaching Meadow Station stated that on the
way they had not seen a soldier, but when they came
to the station they met several Confederates. They
refused to surrender, drew their pistols and cutlasses,
turned back and deliberately walked down the rail
track. What became of these brave men I could
not learn, but supposed they reached their A^essel in
safety, for I never heard of their being taken pris
oners. I can never forget the pluck of a German soldier
whom I found lying on the porch of the dep6t, veiy
sick. I spoke to him and felt his pulse. He had been
brought in that morning from some one of the de
serted camps, and did not know me. To my ques
tions he Avas indisposed to answer. I brought him
some medicine and wine, and when I told the nurse
to lift him up and administer the restorative, the
German shook his head and turned away his face,
and said, most decidedly, "No good, no good; I'se
no take your medicine ; you the enemy of my coun
try, and shot my broders : no take your medicine."
I saw in a moment he took me for a Rebel sur
geon. I took off my hat, shoAved him the U. S. on
the front, and told him I was his friend and brother.
He looked intently into my face, and exclaimed :
"Tank Gott: I takes him, doctor, I takes him all."

264 THE CONFEDERATE GUARD.
I then and in all my subsequent visits looked upon
this man with the deepest respect, for he was a sol
dier from principle, and loved the right more than
life. The noble fellow improved. I afterwards saw
him in Richmond, and hope he still lives.
This was a day of the deepest anxiety and gloom.
Every Confederate officer and soldier whom we met
said that General McClellan was perfectly entrapped
in the swamps and surrounded by his enemies : his
escape was impossible. They were smiling and joy
ous, and told us the war was over. The North could
never raise another army, and after the capitulation
of this we Avould see the perfect folly of attempting
to subdue the South. At Savage Station I found
that all our officers and surgeons were despondent
and nearly hopeless in regard to the escape of our
forces : all they could hear was from officers on the
other side.
There had been left with us 200 or 300 Confeder
ate soldiers as a guard. They were not cruel or in
sulting, and Avere very soon on the best of terms
with the Yankees. There was between them and
our men a most striMng contrast. They were in
complexion as dark as Asiatics ; sallow, with long
black hair hanging over their shoulders, and without
any nervous restlessness; but the moment they were
off duty sinMng into oriental languor; "the sweet
doing of nothing " was the highest enjoyment. Even
if a knot of them played cards, it Avas indolently
and carelessly done ; and often their English was an
African patois, and needed an interpreter. But our
men Avere restless, and even when on duty trod the
ground Avith impatience, gathering into bands for

CAPTAIN TAYLOR. 265
smoking, discussing questions, cooking, digging up
roots, and running from one part ofthe grounds to an
other to see eA-ery new arrival. This endless tumult,
bustle, and hurry, but, above all, the ten thousand
questions asked, distressed and annoyed the stagnant
Southerners, and they would often beg the Yankees
to take themselves off and let them rest.
During the afternoon we AA'ere at work removing
the stores of provisions from the railroad track to
the hospital. I had all the nurses engaged in bear
ing these across the fields on their backs and on
stretchers, and in various ways we were securing
what had been spared for us.
During one of these trips we observed a company
of horsemen riding swiftly towards us. When they
approached Avithin fifty yards of us, I saw the young
men around the captain tMow the strap of their car
bines over their shoulders, placing their guns over
the pommel of their saddles, cock them, and mov
ing slowly they drew near. I thought the action
was strange and threatening, and commanded the
men to drop their loads and sit down on the grass.
I advanced in front. When the captain came within
ten paces of us, I saw him turn and wave his hand to
his followers. They uncocked their pieces, threw the
strap over the neck, and came up to us.
The leader bowed, and introduced himself as Cap
tain Taylor, of New Kent, and the commander of a
company in the celebrated Stuart cavalry. He was
much of a gentleman, asked me when we were taken
prisoners ? how Ave were treated ? how many sick we
had ? After he had satisfied himself, he asked me
if I was not a chaplain ? I replied that I was.
23

266 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR.
"I thought so," said he. "Do you know Chaplain
Sloan?" I told him I did not. (I subsequently saw Mr.
Sloan at Harrison's Landing.)
"Mr. Sloan," saidhe, "once preached for us at New
Kent ; we thought a great deal of him. My mother
and myself aiid wife were members of his church.
These young men," said he, "were all students in the
classical school he superintended at New Kent. He
Avas a very valuable and useful man amongst us. At
the commencement of the war he left us and went,
as we understood, to Philadelphia. But we after
wards heard that he had become a chaplain in your
army, and we all took a solemn vow that wherever
wre should meet him we would shoot him ; and when
we first saw you we supposed that you were Mr.
Sloan, and you may have observed the young men
cocking their guns ; this was when we took you for
him. And now," said he, "I am very glad that you
are not Mr. Sloan, for it would have troubled me all
my life to have shot him." I told him my pleasure
at not being Mr. Sloan was fully equal to his in not
finding him.
He then went on conversing, with the manner of
one who had thrown a mighty load off his soul. He
evidently did not relish the thought of being the
murderer of Mr. Sloan, and sincerely hoped that he
might never come in their way. He then told me
that he had left his family, mother, wife, and chil
dren, at New Kent; and the families of most of the
men about him Avere in that same neighborhood,
and that their anxiety had been intense when our
army advanced to NeAv Kent. " But," said he, "we

CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 267
have been fifteen times in your rear, and know all
that was done by your troops ; and to your credit, I
must say that your men behaved well. They did not
rob the families nor molest them, and I have not
heard of a single case of violence. We have heard,
indeed, of your taking pigs, turkeys, and chickens ;
this is what is to be looked for in an army ; but we
have not heard of a single case of violence or insult
to families ; that speaks loudly for the discipline of
your army."
I told him "I thanked Mm for that drop of com
fort. I knew that the officers aimed to restrain the
troops, but sometimes men broke over all discipline."
"Your men," said he, "behave well, but don't
fight like our men."
" Pray, captain, " said I, " where did your men show
any superiority to ours ? "
"Why, I think, in every battle yet fought, and
nowhere more than at Williamsburg. We fought
you with our rear-guard ; we had no expectation of
being able to do more than hold you in check until
the mam body of our forces were out of harm's way.
But when your generals were so easily checked, this
emboldened us to hurry back reinforcements, and
attempt greater things ; and I do believe that if we
had resolved to make a final stand at Williamsburg,
we could have bound you there another month, and
then the heat and fever would have finished the work
we began."
"Captain," I replied, "you knoAv that the battle
of Williamsburg was mainly fought by one division,
General Hooker's. Generals Kearney and Hancock
rendered very essential aid, but it was almost night

268 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR.
Avhen they reached the field. We had not so many
men in that battle as you had, and yours were all
the advantages of position, intrenchments, and strong
earthworks, and we had to debouch into the fields
in your front, over a narrow neck of land. You
had every advantage that men should ask ; the storm
Avas drenching and disheartening ; our artillery was
engulfed in the mud ; yet, notwithstanding all these
things, General Hooker, with the aid of three or
four regiments of General Kearney's, held his posi
tion for five hours, until, by a flank movement of
General Hancock, you were driven from the field.
In the strength of your intrenchments, you ought to
have held out against fifty thousand men."
"Well," said he, "Ave have thought that one of
our men Avas equal to four of yours : that may have
been slightly too large ; do you not think, in all hon
esty, doctor, that our men are greatly suoerior to
yours in military qualities ? "
"No," said I, " our men are fully equal to yours,
and in many respects superior. We are cooler, will
endure more, suffer greater hardships, and fight
more unflinchingly than yours."
"Well," said he, smiling, "you have never shown
those qualities yet ; but I hope, for the honor ofthe
American name, you may in the future. We have
had several battles on the Peninsula : in which of
these do you think you Avere victorious?"
" Were you at Savage Station last night, captain,
in the battle?"
" No, we Avere on the left. But what of it ? "
"Why, simply this: that you were most thor
oughly AA'hipped, and if you had been there at the

CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR. 269
conclusion of the firing, you would have seen our
columns standing where they did at the commence
ment of the fight ; and of your men, there was not
one in the open fields, and all your artillery was re
moved or silenced."
"And how many men do you suppose General
Jackson brought into action ? "
" I do not know, certainly, but suppose from forty
to fifty thousand. — Well, sir, Ave had but twenty
thousand, all told ; and men who have been under
arms for twenty-five days, who, during all this time,
were enduring the severest toil and exhausting
duties, and yet they repulsed tAvice their number of
fresh troops ; and in the engagement of last night
your men pursued their usual tactics : they crept
into ravines, hid behind -fences, and skulked like
Mdians mto forests. No, captain, you have asked
my opmion, and I have given it to you. Your men,
as a general thing, are not equal to ours."
He laughed, and said: "Doctor, I have provoked
this; we will not be likely to agree, but I don't
think less of you for answering and defending your
Boldiers Avith spirit. But do you not think that
your cause is fatally defeated, and the independence
ofthe South certain ? We have just come up from
the left of your army ; we consider the escape of
General McClellan hopeless. We have seventy
thousand in your rear, and fully as many in front ;
and entangled in the forest and swamp, how can you
escape ? It was understood when we left that Gen
eral McClellan had sent an aid to General Lee, to
arrange the surrender of his entire army."
"You may believe it, but I will not; if twenty
23*

270 CONVERSATION WITH CAPT. TAYLOR.
thousand men could beat back your army last night,
I feel sure that seventy thousand will do more than
that to-day."
"Well," said he, "there are some things Avhich
even brave men cannot do ; you cannot drag your
cannon through SAvamps; you cannot move your
trains through forests so deep and dark that the
light of the sun never reaches the earth ; you cannot
bridge rivers in the face of a powerful and victorious
enemy ; we know all this country well, and I assure
you the escape of your army is impossible."
" Well, captain, you will find that when you press
such men as ours to the wall, they will defend them
selves with a desperation which will end in your de
feat. Even noAv, the roar of the battle is the proof
that we still have an army."
In the meantime the men on both sides had be
come quite familiar, and were fully exchanging
views. The captain bade me good-bye, and hoped
we might meet in better times.

MARCH OF THE ARMY. 271

CHAPTER XVIII.
Monday, June 30<A.
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 Mon
day — Battle of White Oak Swamp — Exciting Scenes.
I have before mentioned that General McClellan
left Savage Station on Sunday morning, June 29th.
Most fortunately for us, up to this time the Confed
erates were under the impression that General Mc
Clellan would most certainly retreat by the way of
the Pamunky, and retire towards Yorktown ; and in
order to prevent this they sent strong bodies of
troops to the north side of the Chickahominy, and
did not become aware of our real purpose until noon
of Sabbath.
The march of our army Avas of necessity sIoav.
We had an enormous train of more than five thou
sand wagc-Hs, and but one narroAv road. The woods
on both sides were swarming with enemies. There
was entire uncertainty in regard to everything be
fore us ; our foes might be massed in force beyond
the White Oak Swamp. The roads had, therefore,
to be carefully felt, and scouts were sent in advance,
and who as they returned and reported that to a eer-

272 THIRD PENNSYLVANIA CAVALRY.
tain distance the way was clear, the order was then
given for the advance of a mile or less. In this way
the army slowly moved on, until it disappeared from
the cultivated fields and was buried in the wilder
ness ; and all our artillery and guns were saved but
one siege piece, of which the carnage broke, and
the gun had to be abandoned.
Before night came on there was felt by all the
general officers the most profound uneasiness. The
crash and thunder of battle in the rear ; the roar of
cannon and report of musketry in our front; the near
presence of thousands of concealed foes on both
flanks, made this one of the most painfully oppres
sive hours in the history of the campaign.
At one moment there was a wide-felt apprehen
sion. When the enemy discovered that we had re
tired from our intrenchments and outposts, they
sprang on the track ofthe army Avith all the fury of
Avild beasts seeldng their prey; and their screams
were calculated to carry terror to the stoutest hearts.
Our army halted, and threw itself into the line of
battle. A section of artillery was sent back by Gen
eral Keyes, with a detachment of infantry and the
3d Pennsylvania cavalry, under General Averill.
The enemy advanced boldly to take the battery, not
seeing the horsemen who were concealed in the for
est. General Averill charged on them, and in a few
moments their entire force was in full retreat. They
Avere driven back three miles, and thus our rear re
giments were relieved from the annoyance and gall
ing fire of our pursuers.
Before night the army passed White Oak Swamp,
and placed that barrier between us and the enemy;

A NIGHT MARCH. 273
and after dark courier after courier arrived at the
head-quarters of General McClellan, Avith the wel
come tidings that General Sumner was holding his
own, and the victory of the night was complete ; and
very soon another came in announcing the glad intel
ligence that Generals Porter and Keyes had reached
the James River, and established communication
with our men-of-war.
It was now thought, as the enemy had not met us
in front, that it was very improbable they Avould at
tempt to pursue us over the swamp.
General Kearney crossed the swamp one mile
higher up than the usual road, at Brackett's Ford,
and about sundown had secured all his trains and
artillery; and after advancing in security a short
distance his scouts fell upon the enemy's pickets, and
there commenced a very brisk firing in the woods
in front. The reconnoissance made it certain that
the Confederate forces were near us, and that an
attempt to advance along that road would be hotly
contested, and might bring on a general engage
ment. General Kearney drew up his men in the
order of battle until after night, and then in the
darkness sought to join the other divisions of the
army. I have often heard the men and officers of
the army speak of that mght's march in the gloomy
forest, where nothing could be seen but the flash
of the fire-fly. The uncertainty of the way, the near
presence of the enemy, the thunder of the battle not
far from them, made this a night long to be remem
bered ; and the most thoughtless were oppressed with
sad anticipations of to-morrow. Many have told me

274 CROSSING THE SWAMP.
that they abandoned all hope of escape, but deter
mined to sell their lives as dearly as possible.
Monday arose on the army with no enemy in sight.
General Sumner crossed the swamp about 9 a. m.,
bringing all his guns with him (and in all this cam
paign he never lost a gun or a color), and in less than
an hour Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, with their
forces, could be seen on the hills to the north and
Avest of the swamp, and were preparing to cross in
force. Here there was a brisk cannonading which lasted
for several hours, until our artillery was withdrawn
from the position and concentrated on the roads from
which we had every reason to fear a flank move
ment. To guard against the success of such a demonstra
tion, strong bodies of our troops Avere massed at im
portant points on the several roads. On those lead
ing from Richmond General Heintzleman, with the
divisions of Generals Hooker, Kearney, Sedgwick,
and McCall, were placed. Our trains and the ad
vancing troops were to pass over the road to Turkey
Bend or Malvern Hill, called Quaker Road. This
road cuts at right angles the various highways run
ning from Richmond east, and therefore is the great
highway to James River from Savage Station. Along
this road all the artillery troops and wagons of the
army had to pass. It Avas the plan of the enemy,
as soon as they discovered the course we were
taking, to cut in twain our army and to drive back
and capture such portion as could be severed from
the main body.
Franklin and Sumner held the rear, Slocum was

POSITION OF THE TROOPS. 275
on the left, and Heintzleman on the right. Hooker
occupied a position on the Quaker Road, to his
right McCall, and again Kearney the extreme right.
Those various divisions were thrown into these
positions to protect our army, seeking its new base,
and to repel the efforts of the enemy to break
through our lines — a catastrophe which Avould have
been fatal to all that portion thus cut off from the
mam trunk.
Thus, to break tMough our advancing troops, to
capture part of our baggage trains and a portion of
the army, was the purpose of Generals Lee and Ma
gruder ; and this was prevented by the valor of the
men to whom the great trust of that day was com
mitted. To those divisions of our army thus massed on
the roads, no battle on the Peninsula Avas so severe
and the loss so great.
The country in which the struggle of Monday oc
curred is heavily wooded, the forests being either
ragged thickets of oak saplings, Adnes, and thorns,
or heavy, dark pine woods. The land is nearly a
dead level, with only an occasional swell or break
on a creek : the general aspect of the country is ex
tremely monotonous and uninviting. Here and there
a farm to the right and left of the road gave a spot
of sunshine and brightness ; but all around this arise,
almost as clearly defined as a great dark wall, the
lofty firs and hemlocks. Our troops were arranged
on a line of these farms extending for three or four
miles, placing, if possible, an open field in front of
them, thus compelling the enemy, in the attack, to
come out of his usual forest haunts.

276 THE PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES.
Heavy cannonading in the rear had been heard
by the infantry of our army, but the near presence
of the enemy was not known until ten o'clock p.m.,
when an overwhelming force burst out of the forest
in front of General McCall's division. This was
composed of twelve Pennsylvania regiments, and
they Avere amongst the best troops in the army,
as proved in many a field before and since; but
they had been in the battles of Gainesville and
Mechanicsville, and had suffered most severely in
both of those engagements. Of one regiment, the
12th, but few escaped.
This division was thrown across the NeAv Market
road, two regiments being on the right and the
others on the left, having open fields in front of
them. At the first commencement of the attack some
confusion was created by the officers and men of the
"Dutch Battery" cutting the horses from the guns,
and posting, pell-mell, through the lines of the
troops. This had the effect to increase the confi
dence of the enemy and the fury of his attack.
I have seen it stated that the entire body of the
Reserves, very early in the battle, were thrown into
confusion, routed, and fled, a disorganized mass,
through the other troops. But this cannot be the
truth in regard to most of those regiments, for the
number of their dead and wounded lying in these
fields and subsequently found in the hospitals, was
proof of the severity ofthe contest to them. The field,
as I afterwards passed over it, was streA\m with their
dead, and there were all the signs to a practised eye
of a long-continued and desperate conflict. It was

THE PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES. 277
very evident that they stood at the point of extremest
danger, and that they had to endure, in the commence
ment of the action, the entire force of the enemy,
and repelled charge after charge. I have heard offi
cers of other divisions state that they had never seen
anything more brilliant than one of the charges
made by the Reserves into the open field and across
it, driving the foe into the forest. And if they were
broken and scattered before night, it was owing to
the fact that the force thrown against them was nu
merically vastly superior. But it is certain that up
to the shadows of the evening General McCall held
Ms position in the edge of the wood, not twenty
rods from the spot where the action commenced;
and m Ms desperate and long-continued defence he
lost more than one-third of his men. Before the going
doAvn of the sun he had twice lost and regained his
batteries of sixteen guns; and as described to me
by General McCall, around the last battery was en
acted one of those terrible scenes which, once be
held, stand out before the mind forever.
To defend these guns an heroic band of his men
had raMed. The shadows of the night were falling
over the fields ; before them the ground was strewed
with the dead ; on the left were the abandoned cais
sons, the dead horses, and the silent cannon. There
was a lull in the fight ; but again the enemy opened
in front, and shell and canister crashed through the
trees above them : to this the Reserves replied.
In a few moments they saw a brigade of the
enemy coming out from the shadows of the forest,
on the further side of the field. They came forward
at a full run, and though met by a very heavy and de-
24

278 DESPERATE FIGHTING.
structive fire, they did not pause nor deliver a shot,
but trailing their guns, advanced. They were led
by a man of vast muscular strength and prowess ;
cheering and shouting to his men, he ran on the
gunners ; the Reserve infantry rushed forward to the
rescue, and around the cannon between them and
over the bodies of fallen horses and comrades, com
menced a contest of the most furious character.
Scarcely a single shot was fired, bayonet crossed
bayonet, and frequently after a death-struggle for
tAvo or three minutes, the foes stood breathless, Avith
guns locked, foot to foot and face to face, each afraid
to move, lest that would give his enemy the advan
tage ; and in that awful moment, when the whole
being was fired by a frenzy that seemed supernatu
ral, the countenance of each was painted on the mind
of the other forever. The shouts of command ; the
yells of fury ; the thrust ; the parry ; the spouting
blood ; the death-cry ; the stroke and crash of the
clubbed muskets ; the battle receding into the forest,
and every tree and bush the scene of a tragedy —
and then again the pressing out around the cannon ;
the officer mounted on the broken wheels, cheering
and calling his men ; the pause of a moment from
exhaustion or to rally, and then the renewal of the
fight with greater fury than ever, made this a spec
tacle of awful grandeur.
In all this contest, the leader of the Confederates
had been successful in every struggle, and hurled to
the ground, Avith scornful ease, less powerful men ;
everywhere a path opened before him, until a man
of equal strength sprang forward to meet him. After
they had parried each other's thrusts, for a moment

A SINGLE COMBAT. 279
they paused, looked at each other intently, as if to
determine what next to do, both feeling he had met
a foe worthy of his steel ; and again they rushed for
ward with renewed desperation, each intent upon
pressing back the other, until some fall or stumble
Avould give him the victory. But they were so
equally matched that not a single foot did either re
cede ; backwards and forwards they bent and dashed;
then again foot to foot, and arm to arm they strug
gled ; unlocMng their guns, which had been twisted
together, they would start back and then dash for
ward with the fury of gladiators. Many on both
sides stopped to look on this desperate personal ren
contre ; around the wounded, taking purchase for
blows on the bodies ofthe dead, they continued the
struggle, until, with gun pressed against gun, they
breathed into each other's faces, and while they thus
stood the rush of battle bound for a second the arm of
the Southern giant. His enemy was SAvift to improve
the advantage : he darted back, lifted his clubbed gun,
and brought it doAvn with crushing force on the neck
of his foe ; the musket of the Rebel dropped from his
hands, and throwing up his arms in the air, his whole
body quivered convulsively, and he fell dead. The
conqueror turned his head, looked up with a grim
smile of satisfaction into the face of his general, and
in a moment more disappeared in the whirl and
cloud of battle.
Soon fresh reinforcements from the enemy compel
led our men to fall back into the forest, and General
McCall, anxious to learn the fate of the day in other
parts of the field, rode up the New Market road.
He was attended by a number of his staff; he had

280 DEATH OF MAJOR BIDDLE.
not gone more than forty rods until he was sur
rounded by a considerable force of the enemy; they
started out from the forest and demanded his sur
render. Several of the officers about him turned
their horses' heads and fled. The soldiers fired on
them. Major Biddle, of Philadelphia, the chief of
staff, fell mortally wounded. For his death there
was expressed universal regret, for all who knew
him regarded him as a man of the highest courage
and moral worth.
General Kearney's division was placed in an open
field, to the right oblique of General McCall's ; he
had brought up a brave and noble brigade, General
Taylor's New Jersey troops, to the support of Gene
ral McCall, and well did they sustain the honor of
their State. He placed his troops and batteries to
the right of the New Market road. On the left there
was a dark pine forest, and on the right an open
field, and about one hundred and fifty yards from
the road a small house, occupied by a negro family ;
the ground gently declines toAvards the house, and
in a few rods beyond is the forest and then the
SAvamp. Looking up the New Market road, Gene
ral Kearney placed his men, and prepared for the
conflict. I have heard many soldiers speak of the
power that was imparted to them by the general's
look and words ; as they passed by him marching
into this open field, he looked on each man, and
said : " Go in, my boys, go in gayly, go in gayly ; "
and during all the subsequent conflict, they heard
the voice of their gen eral: "Gayly, gayly, my boys."
The fiercest contest raged around the negro house :
seized by the Confederates one moment and the next

THE TAV0 COLOR-BEARERS. 281
driven out, and then held by our men. A color-
bearer, Sergeant (noAv Lieutenant) Weeks, at one
corner of this house held the flag of the 63d Penn
sylvania, and concealed from the fire of the enemy
stretched it out, Avaved it and shouted; at the oppo
site corner stood the Confederate flag-bearer, and
each waved defiantly his flag in the face of the other.
The great question Avas, "Who should be shot
first?" At length the Confederates began to retire,
and the flag was borne out into the open fields;
and in the melee and conflict it Avas captured by
one of the Ninth Reserves, who happened to be
on a visit to our men at the commencement of the
action, and being unable to reach his regiment had
fallen in Avith us for the fight. Thus continued, Avith
varying fortunes, the battle of the day.
I subsequently dressed the Avounds of a young
man, of the 4th Pennsylvania Reserves, not more
than eighteen years old, Avho was deeply injured,
and narrowly escaped death while assisting to capture
this flag. He had been shot in the face, the ball
entering near the nose, descending through the
mouth, and coming out in the neck.
"How did you receive this injury in the face?"
"It was a musket ball," ho replied. " I Avas bend
ing low to escape the fire of the enemy's cannon,
and when I was struck, I knew it was best to fight
on. I was roused, aiid there Avas no one to help me
away." "But this bayonet Wound in your back ? That is
rather a bad place for a soldier to be struck."
"That," said he, "I received when we were fight
ing for the Rebel flag. There was a furious contest
24*

282 A FIGHT FOR A REBEL FLAG.
for it ; for when the flag-bearer had fallen, hundreds
of the Confederate soldiers hurried out of the woods
to recover it. We had no time to load, but it was
bayonet, clubbed musket, and pistol. While we were
tossing to and fro, one of the Rebel soldiers struck
me in the back. I felt the bayonet the moment it
touched the skin. I bent and turned rapidly around.
The bayonet was drawn off the gun, and remained
in my back. The stab was not deep, but it stung
me. When Ave had taken the flag, and they had
removed me back into the woods, Jim Scott pulled
the bayonet out."
"And what of the man that struck you ? "
" Oh, I Mlled him. I had two bayonets, and he
had none."
Many desperate battles were fought, and victories
won. It was emphatically a fight of many fields, in
which there was neither combination nor union, but
resulting in the repulse of the enemy at all points.
As soon as the action had ceased from the in
creasing darkness, our men lay doAvn on the field
and slept after the exhaustion of many days. Such
of the wounded as could walk were aided to leave
the field, and in the various farm-houses found sur
geons and protection. Some of our wounded, during
their Avanderings, fell in -with Rebel soldiers, and were
by them helped away.
The conduct of General Kearney in tMs battle was
the admiration of all his corps. He was everywhere
directing all movements, imparting, by his presence
and clear-sightedness, the most determined courage
to his men. Wherever the danger was greatest, there
he pressed and carried Avith him a personal poAver

CONTEST FOR THE FLAG, AT THE BATTLE OF OLENDALE, NEAR THE NEGRO HOUSE chap. jrrm.

HOOKER AND HEINTZLEMAN. 283
that was equal to a reinforcement. In a pre-eminent
degree he possessed that military prescience, or
anticipation of Avhat was coming, and the point of
an enemy's attack, Avhich has characterized every
great man Avho has risen to distinction in the art
of war.
To General Hooker is likeAvise due the highest
praise for the Avisdom of his plans, and for the order
and impetuosity which his own brilliant enthusiasm
imparted to his men. Brothers in arms, always on
the best of terms, mutually admiring the strong
points of each other's characters, they uniformly co
operated and stood firmly by each other in the hour
of danger. Whoever commanded, they were always
faitMul to the army and the country.
General Heintzleman was commander of the third
army corps, all the regiments of which were engaged
in this battle. For him all the officers and men had
the deepest respect. He was always cool, and in
danger perfectly self-possessed. A man of great
Mndness of heart, considerate of his men, temperate,
wisely discriminating and just, there was felt in him
as a soldier the utmost confidence ; without any of
those knightly and brilliant qualities Avhich made
the names of Hooker and Kearney the synonyms of
chivalry and daring, he was brave without rashness,
and life-saving without imbecility, dignified in de
meanor, yet easily approached, and the friend of
every soldier.
Thus ended one of the most severe battles of the
Peninsula. The enemy signally failed in reaping
the harvest of captures, guns and Avagon trains, Avhich
be hoped to gain.

284 THE SIXTY-THIRD PENNSYLVANIA.
On no battle-field in the campaign was there ex
hibited such invincible determination to conquer or
die. Our men fought as those Avho, hardened by an
hundred conflicts, had lost the dread of every missile
of destruction and the fear of death. It was a series
of brilliant, sanguinary engagements, where in deep
forests and open fields deeds of the highest heroism
were performed on both sides.
When all fought so nobly and well, it would be
invidious to distinguish. On the forethought of our
generals and the invincible bravery of some of our
regiments at certain moments in the battle turned
the fate of that day.
General Kearney uniformly spoke of the conduct
ofthe 63d Pennsylvania at Glendale in terms ofthe
highest praise. He returned to the regiment his
thanks for their glorious deeds on that day. It was
detailed to support Thompson's Battery, the men
lying on their faces in front of the guns ; four several
times the Confederates came out of the forests, and
charged to take them. The servmg of this battery
Avas most admirable, and its sweep of grape and
shell frightfully destructive. With desperate cour
age, in four lines of battle, one pressing on the other,
the enemy came forward to take it at all hazards ;
they were met by a terrific storm of grape, canister,
and shrapnell, and Avide lines Avere opened in their
ranks, and men fell as grass before the moAver. But
still the tremor Avas only for a moment ; on they
pressed, closing their broken files as they ran ; another
terrific burst of flame would dash scorching streams
into their very faces; still on the broken fragments

THE SIXTY-THIRD PENNSYLVANIA. 285
pressed, until almost to the muzzle of the cannon ;
then up sprang the protecting regiments, the firing
of the artillery ceased, and musket and bayonet were
left to decide the contest. The enemy could not
stand the heavy stroke of the moment, but broke
and fled ; rallying three several times Avith fresh re
inforcements, they ventured outinto the open ground,
and each time they were repelled with even greater
slaughter than before, until great heaps of their dead
were lying like mounds on the field.
At length when the enemy were evidently pre
paring for a fresh charge, Captain Thompson sent
a message to Colonel Hays that his ammunition
was nearly exhausted, and his guns would be taken
unless some device could be instantly suggested to
save them. Colonel Hays immediately ordered a
charge on the enemy, and before they had fully come
out into the field, they saw our men dashing at
them m the edge of the forest. They interpreted
this bold movement as the evidence of the arrival
of heavy reinforcements, and hastily retreated into
the deeper woods ; and before they recovered from
their surprise the guns were all safely removed, and
a section of De Russe's battery took their place.
The battle continued long into the night, and Avas
here and there renewed in the forest with a frenzy
not witnessed in any previous contest. I afterwards
heard some of the Confederate officers speak of a
false movement which they made during the night ;
they thought they saw indications of retreat in our
army, and brought up a strong body of reserves in
pursuit, and as they advanced across the open field

286 ARMING OF THE SICK.
and approached the forest, there suddenly opened
upon them a long line of fire, and the deadly balls ^
leaped from three or four thousand guns, and in an
instant the ground Avas strewed Avith their slain.
This was followed by the charge, and they were
swept from the field with more than the fury of a
tempest ; and of the hundreds who had gone forth,
but few returned to their companies.
There can be no doubt that in this battle the loss
of the enemy was much greater than ours, for the
Rebel generals threw away the lives of their men
with a mad, murderous rashness which has scarcely
a parallel in history.
After this night attack and defeat, nothing was
seen of the enemy ; and between midnight and the
morning all our forces left the field of battle, taking
with them all their guns, except those lost by General
McCall's division, and before nine a. m. of Tuesday
morning the entire army was in safety on Malvern
Hill. In this battle one of the most interesting specta
cles Avas the arming of the long procession of the
sick, who could not find their regiments, nor move
so rapidly as might be demanded of thqse who were
well. They requested to be armed and placed in
positions to be of service, and rendered essential aid
in the conflict that followed.
On this, as on other fields, the necessity of the
hour compelled the leaving to the tender mercies
of the enemy the wounded of our army, of whom
I presume there were not fewer than one thousand.
I shall subsequently speak of their treatment, and
the condition in which I found them.

ASLEEP ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 287
Many of our men were taken prisoners who had
fought until the hour of midnight, and as soon as the
battle ended fell asleep, and did not awake until the
morning sun shone in their faces, and then arose to
find the enemy in possession of the battle ground,
and Avith strong guards watching every road.

283 SITUATION OF MALVERN HILL.

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. The distance of Malvern Hill from Glendale is
about two and a half miles, and early on the morn
ing of Tuesday, the 1st of July, our entire army was
in position on this elevated plateau.
Malvern Hill, on account of being the scene of
the final conflict of the Peninsular campaign, de
serves more than a passing notice.
It is an elevation of possibly one hundred and fifty
feet in height, and fronts on James River, which is
about two miles to the south, and to the north on open
fields about two-thirds of a mile in length and one-
third in width. To the south and Avest it is quite
steep and difficult of ascent, but to the north and
east is a gentle slope. On the summit stands the
Crew House. This Avas an old-fashioned but sump
tuous country-seat, surrounded by innumerable out
houses and embosomed in vines and trees. On the
slope and height of this hill General McClellan su
perintended the planting of three hundred pieces of

A BEAUTIFUL SCENE. 289
artillery, so as to sweep the fields and forests in every
direction. As our army took their position on this hill there
opened to them a magnificent prospect. They had
come out of the darkness and gloom of dismal
swamps and jungle scenes, and from fields trodden
into barrenness. Here for miles our delighted gaze
surveyed a country which had notyetbeen devastated.
There were fields covered Avith tall rows of graceful
corn, Avith their tassels dancing in the breeze. Here
wide fields of almost ripe wheat, Avaving in long
golden lines, rich with the promise of the coming
harvest ; while almost at our feet, winding through
its green meadows, meandered the gentle James
River. After breathing the air of battle-fields and death for
many days, and looking only on spectacles of misery
and ghastliness, the pleasure which the delicious air,
the fragrance, and the scene of beauty presented to
our army is one of the things which will never fade
from the mind.
Our forces were drawn up on this hill. During the
previous night rifle-pits had been dug under the
guns in the slope. The troops in these pits were
covered with straw and fresh-reaped grain, and the
glasses of the officers of the Confederate Army could
not see that before they could take these batteries
they would have to encounter 10,000 bayonets.
The strength of our position was increased by the
presence of five gunboats, ready at a moment to open
in action. The moral influence of these on our army
was very manifest.
During the morning the enemy, now under the
25

290 magruder's advance.
command of General Magruder, assisted by Jack
son, Longstreet, Hill, and Huger, advanced from
different points, shelling the woods as they slowly
felt their way; and at length, about noon, their
skirmishers discovered our position. The field in
our front was about three-fourths of a mile long and
half a mile Avide, and beyond it a deep, dark pine
forest. On the edge of this field at different points
General Magruder threw out batteries and regiments,
for what purpose could not be known ; and no sooner
were they disclosed than they brought on them a
rain of death. In a moment the regiments were
swept away like chaff before a storm. The horses
Avere killed at the guns, the carriages were tossed
into a thousand fragments, the caissons were ex
ploded, and the gunners who still lived escaped into
the shelter of the woods.
About 4 o'clock p. m., General Magruder ordered
an advance along the entire left wing of his line :
and there were brought out into the field several divi
sions and batteries. Prominent amongst these were
the brigades of Toombs, Cobb, Wright, and Armis-
ted, among the finest troops in the Southern Army.
They were sustained by about twenty pieces of ar
tillery thrown out into the plain. The first column
advanced with steady step towards our batteries;
but long before it reached the middle of the open
ground the troops were met hy such an iron tem
pest, that the few who survived fell to the ground,
and abandoning their guns commenced crawling
back on their faces toward the forest.
A second column, Avith a courage which, on the
part of their officers, was madness, but was at the

SLAUGHTER OF THE REBELS. 291
moment the admiration of our army, ran out into
the field and pressed towards our death-dealing can -
non. These again were mowed down. They rallied,
feebly shouted defiance, pressed into the cloud of
smoke, and another tempest of fire lighted up the
scene for a moment, and that column was gone.
Here and there a straggler emerged from the smoke
and ran across the field towards his friends : he was
but one, while the hundreds were lying mangled and
dead on the plain.
A third column was thrown out from the cover
of the forest ; fresh batteries were brought into play,
and when the smoke had slightly lifted up from the
field, the terrific conflict was renewed — again the
guns of the Confederates were silenced, the horses
killed, the caissons on fire, and the regiments cut
down ; reforming, now prostrate, and then springing
forward until their thinned and ragged lines, as they
came Avithin musket range, presented so pitiable a
spectacle that our men fired Avith little purpose to
Mil. About half-past five a powerful body of troops
from General Magruder's centre were advanced into
the field ; their orders were to press forward over
every obstacle. There is every reason to believe that
these troops had been rendered insensible to fear by
whisky drugged Avith gunpowder; and undeterred
by the fate of those who had perished in previous
attacks, with shouts and yells they pressed toAvards
our men. Many pieces of our cannon opened upon
them, and shell and grape swept through their lines ;
treading on the dead, pressing down the living who
had fallen to the ground, they with unwavering step

292 A CEITICAJ, MOMENT.
still advanced ; emboldened by their example, other
regiments ran out with wild cheers from the forest ;
on and on over the field of carnage they advanced ;
every discharge of our guns made great gaps in their
lines, but instantly closing up, they pressed forward;
another sheet of flame would spread out over the
field, and the roar and thunder followed, moving the
ground as if trembling in the convulsion of an earth
quake. When the smoke cleared away a little, the
broken columns were seen still with fiery madness
pressing on. Already they had begun to ascend the
slope, and had succeeded in coming so near that our
artillery could no longer so damagingly sweep the
ground. With all the frenzy of maniacs they still ran tow
ards us ; the efforts of the artillery were redoubled ;
the men at our guns turned pale and stood aghast;
another moment, and the day might be lost: — just
then up sprang our concealed men in the rifle-pits,
and a long stream of fire darted forth from a thou
sand muskets, and springing forward Avith fixed
bayonet they met the foe, who quailed, wavered,
and reneAved the conflict, but it was in vain : with
the insanity of men who sought death they still con
tinued the struggle, and a long line of their dead at
the base of this hill bore witness to the severity and
destructiveness of the contest. The whole scene at
this time was one of terror and appalling splendor.
The batteries on the heights continued to pour a
constant and withering fire into the forests where
the forces of the enemy were concealed, and simul
taneously the thunder of a hundred great guns
shook the hill, and caused the waters of the river to

PANIC OF THE REBELS. 293
tremble. The firing of the gunboats added very
much to the overpowering grandeur of the hour.
The shells discharged from the monster guns of
these vessels rushed through the air with a frightful
shriek that was heard above the roar of battle ; then
when they entered the forests great trees were
sMvered into a thousand fragments, the branches
were torn from others and tossed into the heavens,
or throAvn far into the deep shades, and when they
burst it was with an explosion that shook the earth
for miles. The terror inspired by these shells was
such as to deprive the Rebel soldiers of all courage,
and they fled into the deeper recesses of the forest.
The contest in front of the rifle-pits was but short,
for, unable to bear up against the impetuous attack
of our men, the enemy endeavored to remove his
broken columns from the field. As they fled they
were pursued three-fourths of a mile by the Union
troops, and the entire Rebel army was struck with
a panic; and if at this moment we could have
brought ten thousand reserves into the field, Ave
might have marched back again and retaken all we
had lost, and without any difficulty reached Rich
mond: — this statement will be amply confirmed in
subsequent chapters.
On the fleeing columns of the enemy our batteries
and gunboats continued to fire until ten o'clock at
night, tM-owing the shells into the forests ; for hours
not a gun replied, and not even a courier dared to
show himself in the open field.
The battle was over, but the cannonading still
continued, and shells and balls of every Mnd tore^
through the woods in a ceaseless whirhvind of fury.
25*

294 RETREAT TO HARRISON'S LANDING.
In the meantime thousands of the Confederates
fled in the wildest disorder from the scene, and hid
themselves in swamps and holloAvs ; soldiers without
guns, horsemen without caps and swords, came to
the hospitals in the battle-field of Glendale, and re
ported that their regiments and brigades were swept
away, and that they alone were " escaped to tell the
tale." It is one of the strangest things in this week of
disaster that General McClellan ordered a retreat to
Harrison's Landing, six miles down the James River,
after we had gained so decided a Adctory. When
this order was received by the impatient and eager
army, consternation and amazement overAvhelmed
our patriotic and ardent hosts. Some refused to obey
the command. General Martindale shed tears of
shame. The brave and chivalrous Kearney said in
the presence of many officers : " I, Philip Kearney,
an old soldier, enter my solemn protest against this
order for retreat, — we ought, instead of retreating,
to follow up the enemy and take Richmond. And
in full view of all the responsibility of such a declara
tion, I say to you all, such an order can only be
prompted by coAvardice or treason."
And Avith all, hopelessness and despair succeeded
the flush of triumph. In silence and gloom our vic
torious army commenced retiring from an enemy
utterly broken, scattered, and panic stricken.
And when there was not a foe within miles of us,
we left our wounded behind to perish, and any one
witnessing the Avild eagerness of our retreat would
have supposed that we were in the greatest peril
from a vigilant and triumphant enemy.

REBEL REPORTS. 295
I was at the time of this battle at the hospital in
Carter's house. All our intelligence from our army
reached us through officers of the Confederates who
came in during Monday and Tuesday, and as usual
Avith them, every movement Avas a success, every bat-
tie a brilliant victory. They assured us that the bat
tle of Glendale or Nelson's Farm on Monday was to
our army a most ruinous defeat. "We had lost half
our train of wagons and ambulances, and invaluable
stores of every Mnd ; that we had been driven from
every field where they had attacked us ; that whole
divisions of our army had been swept away ; that
thousands of our men in small bands or alone were
scattered and then hiding .in forests ; that we had
lost six generals," and one officer assured me, on the
honor of a gentleman, "that he had seen twelve of
our general officers dead or prisoners; that four
hundred officers were among the captives, the pris
oners were numbered by thousands, and the fields
for miles were covered with our dead ; that thou
sands of our wounded, as he rode along, were cry
ing for water and perishing of want ; that General
McClellan Avas surrounded by their troops, and the
Union Army so demoralized that not a single divi
sion could be induced to fight Avith them ; that when
brought into the field whole brigades had thrown
down their arms and marched over to them as pris
oners ; and that officers of our army were then at Gen
eral Lee's head-quarters arranging the terms of sur
render." Such was the gloomy picture which they
painted, and with such protestations and humane
regrets that we could not but fear that there might
be much truth in their statements ; and the deady

296 COLONEL MARSHALL.
dying, and suffering around increased the gloom
that oppressed us. For myself, I had many relatives
and friends in the army whom I mourned as dead,
and our surgeons and wounded officers and men
were all affected in the same manner. Each one had
a brother or dear friend for whom he anxiously in
quired, and turned his face to the wall and wept.
We all felt deeply humiliated, and we were not
anxious to outlive our shame* and the ruin of our
cause. I had spent much of this day (Tuesday) at
Savage Station, assisting our wounded, praying Avith
and comforting the dying, but at four o'clock p. m.
returned to the hospital, of which I had especial
charge. To this again had come in several Confed
erate officers : amongst the rest, Colonel Marshall, a
son of Humphrey Marshall, of Kentucky, who, with
out any of the bitterness and swagger of those who
had preceded him, confirmed the previous statements.
At this time we heard the roar of battle in the dis
tance. He assured us this was the Southern Army
hemming in McClellan, and compelling his surren
der. The sound coming forth from the bosom of
forests in the distance increased in volume, until it
seemed to us that all the elements of terrific grandeur
were let loose ; and the mighty din, the crash, and
thunder imparted such a tremor to the ground that
the very earth throbbed with emotion.
All the nurses and the sick able to walk had as
sembled in front of the hospital, where a slight ele
vation enabled us to hear better. No words were
spoken except prayer ; each, a little apart, was ab
sorbed by his own emotions. Was all this the work
of the enemy pressing our discomfited and fleeing

FLIGHT OF THE REBELS. 297
army ? Might not hundreds of our men even at this
moment be swept into the river by that tempest of
fire ? 0 horrors ! what appalling scenes ! what mis
eries would be on such a field, where rioted all the
enginery of death !
Suddenly the roar of battle burst upon us in more
stupendous magnitude, and the awful thunder, de
scending from the air, appeared to enter into the earth,
and it trembled and rocked beneath our feet. With
minds and senses wrought up to intense activity, we
could not be mistaken. Nearer and nearer came
the sounds of the battle ; the shells had a wider play,
and were thrown closer to us ; the rattle of musketry,
at first scarcely heard, was now more distinct. We
looked at each other — we were slow to catch the
hope. At length one exclaimed : "We are chasing
the enemy back; I hear our guns." "We have de
feated them; our men are coming. Hurrah ! hurrah !
thank God, we have a country and an army yet." We
shook hands as long-parted friends, and in a moment
every face was wet with tears, and the shout of
triumph was blended Avith the song of gratitude.
It reqMred no courier to bear to us the tidings of
our victory. We were just as certain as though an
angel had told us, that our army had routed the foe ;
and that night, after many nights of wakefulness, Ave
slept like little children.
I subsequently learned from many of our officers
that the morning of Tuesday was marked by the
deepest despondency. Our men were exhausted by
thirty days of constant watching, labor, and fight
ing : the heat withering and blasting as the air of a
furnace. Many had not slept for days, and scarcely

298 THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE.
tasted food in a week; and now, weary and pros
trated, they felt it would be a privilege to die.
There Avere likewise most ominous signs that the
general officers were apprehensive of fatal disasters.
The paymasters who were in the army were or
dered on board the gunboats. Prince de Joinville,
Avho had been with us from the very commence
ment of the campaign, and who, constantly active,
had been everywhere, undeterred by danger, this
morning left us, taking with him the young men
his nephews, the Count de Paris and Duke de
Chartres, who had acted as aids-de-camp to General
McClellan. The commander-in-chief was evidently oppressed
with the deepest solicitude, for he accompanied the
Prince and his nephews to the war steamer, and re
mained on board until late in the afternoon, com
municating his orders by signals and couriers. Dr.
James Rogers, brigade surgeon of Robinson's bri
gade, who had been ill with fever for several days,
was likewise on this steamer, and afterwards related
to me the events and scenes of that day as they came
under his eye. He said General McClellan was evi
dently laboring under the deepest depression, and
apprehended the worst results. But about four
o'clock a despatch came from General Marcy, saying
that our army was holding the enemy at bay at all
points, and in all probability would drive him from
the field. This message appeared to lift an im
mense burden off the heart of the general, and he
arose and Avalked the deck with a buoyant step, and
from this time evidently listened to the battle with
new hope.

THE PENINSULA FLOODED. 299
But about five o'clock p. m. the commanding gen
eral rode into the lines of our army, and remained
until the action closed.
General Heintzleman had sent to him a message
that the troops noticed his absence, and it was exert
ing a depressing influence on them, and he could not
be answerable for the consequences if he longer held
himself so far aloof from the scene of action and
danger. During the nights of the 1st and 2d of July we
were visited by one of the heaviest of rain-storms :
this continued for twenty-four hours without inter
mission, until the entire Peninsula was covered with
Avater, and rivers rushed where there had been only
little streams.
In this storm, on the morning of Wednesday, the
army fell down to Berkeley or Harrison's Landing.
This was done on account of the superiority of the
landing, James River at this point being broad and
deep. The position was of such a character that the
army could be shielded from any force the enemy
could bring against us. We could have taken many
of his abandoned guns from the field, but satisfied
ourselves Avith carrying- off all our own with incredi
ble difficulty over worse than Crimean roads.
We retired to Harrison's Landing without the
enemy maMng any demonstration in our rear ; and
weary and exhausted by struggles and battles which
have probably no parallel in human history, our
troops found rest. And of the Grand Army of the
Potomac 58,000 remained, and 60,000 were in hospi
tals, lying wounded on the fields, or killed in battle.
Our loss in the battle" of Malvern Hill was slight

300 REBEL STRAGGLERS.
compared with that of other days. But the loss of
the enemy on this single field was fully equal in
killed and. wounded to our losses in the seven days.
During the entire day of Wednesday, when the
rain was descending in torrents, there came in the
broken fragments of the Confederate Army. The
Williamsburg road for miles was dark with straggling,
Avandering bands : without guns, shivering in tho
cold rain, destitute of overcoats and without food,
they presented themselves at our hospitals the most
pitiable objects I ever saw. They could give no
intelligent account of the battle, but all spoke of the
terror inspired by our gunboats. They were like
the Egyptian whom King David found in the field,
"who knew nothing until he had eaten and drunken."
They were humble, and took upon themselves none
of the airs of conquerors. Those who were from
Virginia and Alabama I found most reasonable and
open to truth. They were all, however, inert in
mind, slow in speech, and without any of that bold
ness of bearing and independence of character which
distinguishes the Northern soldier. The fact of
their being perfectly under the control of an aris
tocracy Avas as palpable as • amongst the serfs of
Russia. They were thankful for shelter and food ;
and those from Virginia and North Carolina almost
uniformly said they were forced into the army, and
were now most anxious to return to their homes.
Hundreds of these broken bands and gunless men
came in during the day, and great numbers were
seen wandering towards Richmond, occasionally
cowering under the shadow of trees, and sleeping
in the storm by the wayside. When met or aroused,

TERRIBLE EFFECT OF THE SHELLS. 301
they all eagerly inquired for their regiments or
divisions, and did not know the difference between
their own officers and ours. They uniformly said
they had lost their regiment in the battle of Tues
day, and having escaped from the field, the rain of
grape and bomb, and the explosion of the great
shells throAvn from the gunboats, were so terrible
that human nature could not endure it. The trees
were falling and shattered around them as if a
hundred thunderbolts had struck upon them in a
moment, and the fragments were hurled in every
direction with far more power than Indian arrows ;
that the falling branches and the exploding bombs
drove them further and further into the woods, until
they were lost to the army.
The Confederate officers who appeared amongst
us to-day were silent in regard to the operations of
yesterday; when asked, they claimed as usual a
victory, but " thought our army was safe from fur
ther attack just now." They confessed themselves
greatly disappointed ; they had been confident that
our entire forces would be destroyed or captured.
Terrible as this storm appeared to us, and deeply
as our pity was excited for our poor fellows lying
out in the open fields, unable to crawl out of the
water, or drag themselves to the shelter of the near
est tree, this great rain was of service to them : -the
battle-fields were cleansed, their wounds were washed,
and their bodies cooled.

24

302 A SEARCH FOR THE AVOUNDED.

CHAPTER XX.
Thursday, July 3d.
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 Ride.
On this day the heavens cleared, the sun came
forth again, and although its beams Avere overpower-
ingly hot, yet Avith the return of a pure sky some
of the gloom that oppressed us was dispersed, and
we began to devise plans for the effectual relief of
those near us, who had been lying wounded and
sick in sheds, barns, and the deserted camps ; and
measures were taken to search the woods and visit
every out-of-the-way house, and from these deserted
dwellings and from the forests were brought in
many who for days had suffered alone, and endured
the agonies of desertion, thirst, and pain.
We had no definite reports of the two last battles,
and knew nothing certain in regard to the fate of
our army, until Dr. Skelton, of the 87th New York,
came in from the Gatewood House, on the Nelson
farm. He had been detailed to remain with our
Avounded at this house, and being destitute of medi
cines and food, rode across the country under guard
to Savage Station for sanitary and medicinal stores.
Dr. Skelton was one of the most self-denying of
our surgeons — his labors were constant and humane.

DR. SKELTON. 303
He went from field to field, from cabin to cabin, look
ing after those who had been wounded, and left
without attendance and help. And in the hospital
at the Gatewood House he was unwearied and
sleepless in his efforts to alleviate the pains and
meet the wants of that hour. The severity of his
exertions Avere well nigh fatal, for he was brought
up to Richmond very ill Avith typhoid fever, and his
life hung for many weeks in suspense, but I was
glad to meet him again, having recruited his strength
and returned to his post of duty.
Dr. Skelton gaATe a vivid and heart-rending pic
ture of the condition of our wounded, and urged
that something should be done for their relief. It
was now the fourth day since the battle of Glendale,
yet no bread or meat had been sent to the hospitals.
Eight hundred carriages, wagons, and ambulances,
accompanied by hundreds of citizens of Richmond,
had come forth from the city, carrying bread, water,
and wine to their own wounded, and had removed
them all, but passed by our sufferers unpitied, and
left them to perish. He moreover represented that
appeal after appeal had been made to Confederate
generals and commissaries, but nothing had as yet
been sent ; that his medicines, bandages, and stores
had been taken by the orders of surgeons of the
Confederate army ; that his surgical instruments had
been borrowed by a prominent surgeon in the South
ern service and never returned, and hence he was
without the means of surgical operations, and that
death would in many cases result from that loss ;
that the surgical instruments of Dr. Robinson had
been taken in the same manner, and his horse stolen ;

301 CHEERING intelligence.
that numbers of our men were still out on the bat
tle-field, and he had no ambulances, stretchers, or
nurses to bring them in. Such was the gloomy picture
he drevv of the condition of our wounded and sick.
But there was one drop of sweetness in this cup
of bitterness. The doctor assured me that the
enemy was driven from all points of the field on
Monday night, and that, with the exception of the
high ground over White Oak Swamp, occupied by
our artillery, and from which the batteries had been
Avithdrawn into the bosom of our infantry, we occu
pied all the battle-field on Monday night; and that
the battle of Malvern Hill was a most brilliant suc
cess — the enemy, routed and trembling, had fled
in every direction, and in some regiments not one-
half their men could be found, and that our army
Avas now entirely safe.
This brought to us inexpressible relief. I learned
likewise from Dr. Skelton that there Avas a consider
able number of our sick in the camp formerly oc
cupied by General Keyes ; they were men who,
being unable to proceed further, had dropped be
hind the army in its retreat, and been borne to some
tents in this camp, and there had remained. I re-
soh^ed if possible to visit them, and bear such assist
ance and supplies as were needed. I returned to
the hospital in Carter's house, and made prepara
tions for the journey, and rode through the forests
and over the fields lately the scene of carnage, and
noAv covered with broken carriages and ambulances,
which had b een abandoned and fired, and with the torn
garments and broken knapsacks which our men had
cast away. I met on the way great numbers of Con-

SICK TAKEN TO RICHMOND. 305
federate soldiers, mostly Avithout guns ; some seek
ing their army, but generally inquiring for Rich
mond. They looked sick and exhausted; they
represented themselves as being in the divisions
brought into action on Tuesday, and when their
men were swept from the field all Avere scattered.
Dr. Skelton told me that he had passed a thousand
such broken stragglers as he came to Savage Sta
tion. They mostly represented themselves as be
longing to General Jackson's corps.
I reached the hospital tents on the hill overlook
ing White Oak Swamp, and found that many of our
sick had been removed, as I was told, to Richmond.
Those that remained had already been placed in
heavy army wagons, and were lying in all possible
positions : having no shelter, their sufferings in the
burning sun were beyond the power of words to
describe. They generally appeared to be in the last
stages of typhoid fever. Several of them were so
ill that I could not obtain their names. They were
confused and wandering in mind. Poor fellows !
I thought it was a great mercy that they were not
keenly alive to the miseries of their condition. I
went from wagon to wagon, distributed to each a
small quantity of wine or brandy and a piece of light
bread, and then went into the neighboring forests
and cut some boughs from the trees, and placed
them as shelters from the piercing sun in the hands
of those able to hold up a little bush ; and where
they did not possess power to do this, I secured them
in the front of the wagon, that they might be shaded
for a time.
They had been placed in these wagons at two
26*

306 SHOCKING INHUMANITY.
o'clock p. M., and it was now four ; still there were
no orders to move. I asked the drivers of the teams
why they lingered, or at least to remove the men to
a place of shelter from the sun. They replied they
did not dare to move an inch until "the lieutenant
came." I saw then, as often afterwards, that many
of the Rebel officers were dead to every emotion of
humanity, and would have been glad to aid in giving
a quiet passage out of the world to our sick and
Avounded, in order that they might be relieved from
further trouble.
One of these men was so ill that it was deemed
unsafe to remove him from the tent. He had been
most cruelly neglected, and was evidently approach
ing that country Avhere "the wicked cease from
troubling and the weary are at rest." He was not,
however, so far gone as to be unable to give me his
name and residence. It was A. D. Leburne, of Mer
cer, Pennsylvania. I conversed Avith him, and learned
from his few broken words that he trusted in Jesus
and died in peace.
Some of those lying in the wagons I afterwards
met in Richmond, and found to my surprise that
nearly all had survived the miseries of a night jour
ney over the Avorst of roads.
I returned in the evening to my hospital and made
arrangements to extend the journey of to-morrow
beyond White Oak Swamp, and into the battle-fields.
I secured the promise of the co-operation of our
guard, Avhom I wished to take with me to preserve
me from arrest and violence.
The commandant at Savage Station was Lieuten
ant Lacy Stewart. I went to him and asked permis-

LIEUTENANT STEWART. 307
sion to pass within the lines of the Confederate
Army beyond the swamp, and bear supplies of medi
cines and food to the wounded.
In reply, he stated "that it Avould be impossible
for him to give me such a pass ; that it would ren
der him liable to charges and court-martial ; that
if anything should happen to me, if a guerilla
should shoot me from the bushes, if some straggling
soldier should Mil me for my watch or in hope of
money, he would be held responsible by his Govern
ment, and he could give me no pass without send
ing me under guard, and he had no men or horses ;
but, if I still was determined to go, all he could
promise me was that he thought I would not be shot. ' '
There was not much comfort in this. I then made
application for an ambulance and horses, proposing
to find the driver myself, and in this carry such sup
plies as were demanded and I could obtain.
He was very courteous, and assured me nothing
would give Mm greater pleasure than to give me a
wagon for such a purpose, but every hour he was
looMng for an order to send all he had up to Rich
mond, and he would give offence to the authorities
there if these were not on hand.
I then concluded to load to the utmost my oavii
two horses and the horse of the guard, which we
borrowed from a German family under our care. I
had learned m the meantime, that at the house of
a Mr. Dudley, who had a beautiful place near us,
Mrs. Harris had stored in an outhouse all the sani
tary goods she was compelled to leave behind in the
retreat. When I came to his house Mr. Dudley told
me that officers of the Confederate Government had

308 BATTLE-FIELD OF GLENDALE.
been there the previous evening and taken posses
sion of the stores of Mrs. Harris, and commanded
that he should permit nothing to be removed.
The Mississippian sergeant, Howb, our guard, Avho
Avas Avith me, here came forward and assured Mr.
Dudley that his authority was fully equal to that ofthe
"Richmond overseers," as he called them; "that
they Avished to eat the preserves, dried fruit, and
crackers themselves, and give the shirts, drawers,
etc. etc., to their sons and negroes, or put them into
stores and sell them ; that what we wished to obtain
were for wounded men in the fields, who were Avith
out clothing and perishing with hunger."
Mr. Dudley, who was really a generous-hearted
man, listened to this appeal, took Howb's receipt,
and gave us all that we could, by any possibility,
bear away. We had the various articles we collected
placed in bed-sacks, which, being long, suspended
on the back of my baggage pony, nearly reached to
the ground. I had on my own horse two such sacks,
and Howb bore another. It was ten o'clock before
we left Savage Station and went forth into the burn
ing roads and fields. The atmosphere appeared to
be on fire : the thermometer was 105° in the shade.
Even in the desert of Arabia I never suffered so
painfully from heat. Not a breath of air stirred the
silent woods, and the leaves of the trees were crisp
ing in the intense glare.
We passed beyond the swamp and were soon in the
field of the battle of Glendale. The carcasses of dead
horses Avere lying in the roads and fields. This was
the scene of the artillery fight at the commencement
of the action. I sa ay but few graves. Our artillery

CONFEDERATE CAMPS. 809
was merely here for the purpose of holding the
enemy's forces in check as long as possible; but
the great body of our infantry was one or two miles
in advance, holding the main roads to Richmond and
the James River.
On the heights over the swamp we came upon
strong bodies of troops of the Confederate Army.
They were of General Jackson's, General A. D. Hill's,
and General Longstreet's divisions. They were free
and familiar with us, asMng many questions ; and
uniformly supposing me to be a Confederate sur
geon, I was never challenged. There was in their
camps none of the air of comfort and abundance
seen in ours ; the men were poorly clad in the coarsest
homespun, such as I had seen formerly worn by the
slaves in the South ; the greater part of them were
without tents and sheltered under booths.
They had nothing for food but the dirtiest bacon
sides and flour — salt was an unknoAvn luxury. The
flour was moistened, rolled into a ball, and baked in
a fire on the point of a ramrod ; of other bread they
had none.
They were without knapsacks and overcoats, and
many of them had no blankets, and therefore accom
plished long marches Avith great haste and ease ; but
their sufferings in storms and in the chilly nights
must have been well nigh unendurable.
Everything on which I looked was immeasurably
inferior to the equipments of our army. The horses
were poor and fed on corn only ; the army wagons
were of the fashion in use on the National Road
when I was a boy, with such length of coupling that
each wagon looked like a section of a pontoon

310 LAX DISCIPLINE.
bridge ; the bed was deeply hollowed in the centre,
and running back and forwards like a pair of huge
horns. The harness of the horses Avas old and dried
in the sun. In these wagons there were no commis
sary stores, but guns and ammunition.
The gun-carriages and caissons had evidently
passed through trying scenes, and looked as if they
would soon shake to pieces. The artillery horses
were quite as poor as those already mentioned, and
had all the appearance of neglect.
In the camp there was little of that order and
military discipline which we could have seen even in
the newest regiments in our service. There was none
of that careful guarding of roads, that scrutiny of
citizens and soldiers to Avhichlhad been accustomed,
but as it appeared to me great carelessness in all
these respects. But they were in a country of which
they knew every path, and were familiar with every
resident. After passing tM'ough these various divisions of
the Confederate Army, I was more than ever sur
prised at the success of their late movement.
But in one thing they had greatly the advantage
of us ; they were well, the air of the Peninsula did
not palsy their strength, and the heat did not inter
fere with marching and action in the field. In
another respect their condition was better than that
of our soldiers — they were not burdened with sixty
pounds weight of impediments, and therefore were
not exhausted by a few miles of marching or by a run
of two miles at double-quick.
I now came to the Brackett House, about one
mile and a half beyond the SAvamp. This was one

CONFEDERATE UNIFORMS. Blj
of the old Virginia plantations ; the land had the
exhausted appearance of a region which had been
in cultivation for ages. The house stands a few rods
to the right of the road, and far in the rear stretches
the innumerable outhouses of a slave estate. Be-
tAveen these huts and pens were sweltering masses
of barn, Mtchen, and stable offal.
In the fields were encampments of General A. D.
Hill's troops ; some of his regiments Avere on parade,
and presented lines of men in all conceivable cos
tumes — some dressed m grey, others in the blue
cloths of our troops, others in brown ; many were
ragged, some sleeveless, and a multitude I thought
were shirtless.
When I came to the front of this house the
spectacle was at once novel and distressing. Within
twenty feet of it stands a large poplar tree : under
the shadow of this was lying and reclining a great
number of our wounded and sick soldiers. Some
of them were almost naked, having cast away the
coats, pantaloons, and shirts which were saturated
and stiffened with blood. Some were screened under
a few bushes; others had boards so placed as to
shelter them from the sun ; some were hobbling
around on rude crutches ; others Avere lying passive
and dying on the bare ground. Mingled with them
were many Confederate soldiers : some of these were
sick, but the great majority were there for conversa
tion and from curiosity.
I first found the surgeons in charge, Dr. Osburne,
ofthe 42d New York, Dr. Kittinger, ofthe 100th New
York, Dr. Underwood, of Cambridge, Massachusetts,
and to them made known the fact that I had brought

312 DISTRIBUTION OF SUPPLIES.
supplies of food, clothing, and medicines from Savage
Station. A portion of the last I placed in their hands,
and requested permission to distribute the others at
pleasure through the various tents, houses, and sta
bles where our sick and wounded were lying.
This was kindly granted : I then went through the
mansion house ; all the furniture had been removed
from the rooms. Our wounded men were lying side
by side on the bare floor ; they were strewn along
the passages and porticoes; and wherever there was
a foot of room there reclined or couched a poor
sufferer. I stopped and talked with each one, asking
him of his condition, of his pains and wants, and
giving to all, if they found it possible to eat, a piece
of soft bread or cracker. Many of them had no
hope of life : they knew their wounds were of such
a character that death was certain.
I often asked them if they regretted that they
had made the greatest sacrifice that man can ever
make for his country. I do not now remember one
solitary instance in which was expressed any regret,
but they generally said, " No, Ave felt we were right,
and that this rebellion was a great crime against
God and man, and we took up arms for the defence
of our country and her laws, and if we have to die
in such a cause, why should we murmur? — we give
our lives to our country and our names to our
children." When this last word was repeated there
Avas always a tremor of the voice, and the eyes filled
Avith tears. And very frequently they would say, "the
bitterness of death would be passed if we could but
see our parents, or wives and children before we die,
but that cannot be." I spoke to many of them of the

PRIVATE NOLAN. 313
consolations of religion, and that our Lord knew
what it was to be wounded and to die, and He was
very pitiful and of tender mercy ; and if they looked
to Him in this hour He would grant them such a
sense of His gracious presence and forgiving love
as would soften their beds and prepare them to die
in peace. In many cases they assured me that they
had found it so already; and as they were lying alone
on the fields, and through long painful nights, with no
companions but the stars, they had lifted their hearts
to God in prayer, and confessed their sins and sought
mercy, and they hoped they were heard, for the fear
of death was now gone ; they had placed themselves
like little children in the bosom of the Redeemer.
Many of the men most severely wounded were
cheerful and happy. One of these noble fellows I
shall have occasion to mention again ; his name was
Nolan, of Blair County, Pennsylvania. He was very
badly wounded ; his left limb was taken off above
the knee, but he uttered not a word of complaint,
sung hymns, Ms soul was full of joy, and his lips of
praise. The goodness of God and the love of Jesus
were Ms constant themes ; his face was radiant with
peace, and if we had not seen the bleeding stump
we would have thought he was in perfect health.
When I spoke to him he knew me, and immedi
ately burst out in most toucMng language, in ac
knowledgment of the mercy of God to him ; his
pains had not been worth mention, while his joy had
been ecstatic and full, and when he was lying in the
fields it was as if the angels had been sent to minis
ter to him, his God was a covert from the tempest.
27

314 A GHASTLY WOUND.
He never knew until now how wide the ocean and
how unfathomable the depth of God's love.
Such were some of the men who deserve to have
their names recorded as amongst the martyrs of
Jesus. He had a magnificent voice, clear, rich, and
sweet, a little more tremulous and warbling from the
pain and exhaustion of the last few days, but one of
the finest I ever heard ; and as he would sing,
" Jesus, my God, I know His name ;
His name is all my trust ;
Nor will He put my soul to shame,
Nor let my hope be lost,"
many a poor groaner would suspend his moans ; the
words of faith and hope fell upon all as gentle dew,
and it was a gleam of sunshine in the darkness of
their prison-house. This man deserved the gratitude
of many, for he brought to them the cup of salva
tion, and taught them to bear their pains with
patience, and by his words of comfort and songs in
the night lightened their miseries.
Lying alongside of Mr. Nolan was a young man
from the mountains of Pennsylvania, ofthe Reserves,
who had been struck by a six-pound cannon-ball. It
had passed between the large bones of the thigh and
abdomen and lodged in the muscle of the hip. The
ball was cut out after he had been brought in ; the
physicians placed it in my hands and made it a pres
ent to me, but the difficulty of carrying such a pon
derous thing, under the circumstances, compelled
me to leave it behind, much to my regret now.
He bore his sufferings heroically ; he was a man
of splendid physical proportions — his muscles were
iron and his bones brass. No one could see from

DAVID COURSON. 315
his face that he had suffered such a prodigious shock.
The physicians spoke in astonishment of his surviv
ing the blow half an hour, and had not now the
slightest hope of his living from day to day. Yet
that young man survived, being borne up to Rich
mond, fourteen miles, in an army wagon, and lived
eighteen days, and then died, not so much from his
wound as from breathing the pestilential air of the
Libby Prison.
In front of this house was lying on the ground a
soldier from Franklin, Pennsylvania, David Cour-
son ; his left thigh was broken by a musket-ball, and
he was then awaiting amputation. He told me that
he had remained on the battle-field from the night
of the 30th until the 3d, when he was brought in.
He said that the Confederate soldiers had been very
Mnd to Mm, stopping as often as passing by. One
of them cut branches from a tree and made a booth
to shelter him ; they brought him water, and they
would come from their camp and sit by him for hours,
to cheer him and to enable him to better endure his
sufferings. I saw him again on Saturday after the amputation ;
he had borne it well, and I hoped he could live : he
continued to improve in the open air, but when
removed to the dungeons of Richmond, he as well
as others soon perished. He was a brave man. In
one of my morning rounds in the prison I came to
the place where I had left Courson on the previous
nightj suffering from heat and nervous exhaustion,
but not complaining nor apparently near his end.
But the next morning his place was vacant.
"Where is Oourson ? " I said to a wounded soldier.

316 A NOBLE YOUTH.
"Gone up, gone up," said he. — Thus suddenly did
many drop out of life.
During my walks tMough the rooms of the house
a young officer came to me and invited me td come
upstairs and see some officers who were lying in one
of the chambers. I record the name of this young
man,* because though wounded he Avas nursing all
his brother officers — bringing to them water, super
intending the preparation of such food as he could
obtain, and I have rarely seen a young man m whose
face shone out such force of benevolence. And I
was deeply grieved to learn afterwards that he had
been sent to Richmond and compelled to walk four
teen miles in the hot sun, and reached there exhausted
and feverish, and died in two days of 1 ockj aw, another
Adctim of the heartless cruelty of the Confederate
officers and Government.
In this room were lying Lieutenant-colonel Mc-
Intire, 1st Reserves, Pa. ; Lieutenant-colonel Wood-
worth, 3d Reserves, Pa. ; Captain W. W. White, 7th
Reserves, Pa. ; Captain McCleary, 5th Reserves, Pa. ;
Captain J. Culbertson, 9th Reserves, Pa.; Captain
P. J. Smith, 2d Reserves, Pa. ; Captain E. B. Gates,
4th Reserves, Pa. ; Lieutenant I. Lehman, 3d Ke-
serves, Pa. ; Adjutant W. W. Stewart, 1st Reserves,
Pa. ; Lieutenant J. G. McCauley, 7th Reserves, Pa. ;
and Lieutenant August Muller, 20th Massachusetts.
It was the fourth of July, and though most of
these officers were severely wounded, yet they found
heart to sing the "Star-spangled Banner" and the
" Red, White, and Blue." They likeAvise hung out
* Sergeant Ross, from Lockhaven, Pennsylvania.

A HEARTLESS SURGEON. 317
of the Avindow two small American flags. The songs
and waving flags deeply angered some Confederate
officers, and they threatened to have a volley fired
into the window ; but at length satisfied themselves
by shouting, " You can never take Richmond, for
you will have to cross a very wide (Lee) lea, and
the biggest Mnd of a Stonewall, and then toil up
two veiy high (Sills) hills, and fight your way every
step through a (Longstreet) long street, and after all
have (Huger) huger difficulties to surmount." And
then the whole affair ended in a mutual lausrh and
shout. There were lying around this house on the open
ground andinthe outhouses 450 men. Andlfear there
was good reason to believe that some of the com
plaints of the officers and men, in regard to their
surgeons, were not without foundation. It certainly
betrayed extreme heartlessness in a surgeon who,
when told of the miserable condition of many of our
wounded men in the wet, muddy fields, and urged
to go to their relief, to most positively refuse to go
out from the house, "for he did not wish to soil his
white canvas shoes ! "
Dr. Osburne, whom I subsequently saw in Rich
mond, was unwell, andbore with him for many months
the seeds of disease contracted on the Peninsula.
All spoke in praise of Dr. Kittinger, Avho faithfully
attended to the patients of his division ; also of Dr.
Underwood, who most assiduously day and night
sought to relieve all. The severity of his labors, the
heavy pressure on his nervous energies, brought him
down nearly to the gates of death ; but I hope that
long before this, in the bosom of his home, one whose
27*

318 VISITING THE HOSPITALS.
ear was ever open to the cry of suffering, and who,
though he staggered and fainted, still persevered in
his work of mercy, has regained the health which in
the seiwice of his country he lost.
After going from group to group, ministering to
them as my means would permit, uniformly stopping
for a few moments Avith the severely wounded and
praying with the dying, in order to reach other hos
pitals I was compelled to leave Brackett's house.
Proceeding along the New Market road, I came to
the Nelson house, a short distance to the left. At
this hospital there were lying about 200 patients.
The surgeons were Dr. Skelton and Dr. Robinson.
Many of the patients were very badly wounded:
they were amongst the worst cases gathered m from
the field. They were generally from New York reg
iments in General Hooker's division, and had been
warmly engaged in the contest of Monday afternoon.
At this hospital were lying Captain Bagley, of Pitts
burg; Lieutenant-colonel Woodward, of Philadelphia;
Captain Reed and his son, of the 20th Indiana, and
many others. I left with the surgeons here the re
mainder of my supplies, and went with Dr. Skelton
over the ground of the battle of Glendale. One
mile and a half to the left, in the direction of the
Chickahominy, we came to the Gatewood house.
In this were lying some of the wounded of Slocum's
division ; the injuries they had endured Avere from , ,
shells and grape. Amongst these were Captain D. ; .
A. Moore, Captain Demming, and Captain W. H."
Spencer, 61st New York. All three were severely ,
wounded, but bore their sufferings with Christian ; ,
fortitude ; and I was much rejoiced to find that they > >

SOLDIERS' GRAVES. 319
were sustained by faith in God. If these officers, in
their culture, manners, and gentlemanly bearing, rep
resented their regiments, they were associated with
very superior men. Captain Moore was, I learned,
a professor in some college; Captain Demming, a
successful and popular lawyer. There was no sur
geon with the forty or fifty wounded lying in this
house. Dr. Skelton visited them twice a day. They
had but little food, and only three nurses. There is
scarcely anything in the world more trying than
under circumstances like these to bid such noble men
farewell, and leave them alone in their sufferings. I
could see but few graves in this portion of the bat
tle-field ; here and there we came on a heap of fresh
earth, which covered some soldier in the place where
he fell ; and on the edge of the forest we saw the
spots to Avhich the wounded had been borne from
the sun for shelter, and here had breathed their last,
and the hand of some fellow-seldier had cut the name
and regiment on the bark of the nearest tree.
From here we rode across the fields to the other
extreme ofthe battle-ground, passing over the ground
occupied by Sumner, Hooker, McCall, and Kearney.
After riding about a mile to the Avest of the Nelson
house, we came on the ground where General Mc
Call's division had been posted at the commence
ment of the action. This field over its entire extent
was covered with the mounds which marked the
spots where our brave men had fallen. Extended
•over a portion of the field was the breastwork of
rails they had hastily constructed, and along this
there were many dead. I saw no one unburied. In
this field was a farm-house surrounded by apple and

320 VIEAV OF A BATTLE-FIELD.
peach trees ; under these had been buried a consid
erable number of our soldiers. Dr. Donnelly was
in charge of the wounded lying in the house. I did
not remain long at this hospital on my first visit, for
I Avished to ascertain their wants, and return with
supplies on the morrow.
We then rode to the scene of the severest fight
ing, on the edge of the forest, near to the New Mar
ket road. In the space of a few yards we counted
forty dead horses, and the carcasses of many more
were lying where the batteries had stood during the
action, and the forest in the rear bore witness to the
destructive power of the enginery which had been
at work here. This was the scene of that twilight
struggle which I have described in a previous
chapter. We now crossed the NeAv Market road and en
tered the field which had been occupied by Kear
ney's men during the ^action. This field gradually
declines from the road to the forest on the right, and
after proceeding two or three hundred feet in the
woods there is a swamp : our lines extended across
this field to the slough. In the field, about one hun
dred yards from the road, stands a house occupied
by a negro family. In this house and the outhouses
around it were many of our wounded men, under
the care of Dr. Collins. The garden was inclosed
with a picket fence, nearly every strip of which bore
witness to the severity of the battle. Balls of all
descriptions had torn through the house. It was a'
point of great importance during the conflict, and
therefore so perseveringly sought on the one side,
and defended Avith such determination on the other.

A NEGRO'S NARRATIVE. 321
The members of the family had returned, and had
been unceasingly kind to our wounded men. These
were all, I believe, of General Kearney's division.
They were entirely destitute of food, and had been
sustamed for several days on corn-meal gruel. The
negro man described to me the battle, as he had
witnessed it. He was an intelligent and sober-
minded man. When he saw our troops march up
the road and take position across his field, he had
no thought that a place so quiet was to be the scene
of a battle ; he had heard nothmg of the Confeder
ates coming down from Richmond.
He and his family had gone out to look on the
brilliant spectacle, but did not know what it meant ;
the banners were flying, the batteries were wheeling
into position, and troops of cavalry were draivn up
on the edge of the woods. While they were admiring
the gay pageant, and contrasting the fine appearance
of our troops with the Confederate soldiers they had
seen, and full of wonder asMng each other what all
this could mean, an officer, he supposed General
Kearney, rode over the field and told him to remove
his family instantly, for in less than ten minutes
there would be a battle, and his house be in the
centre of it.
His Avife and children ran in, seized each one some
garment, and started across the field in the direction
of the Quaker Road ; they had reached the forest,
and were skirting along the woods, "when there
was a dreadful crash, as if the sky had fallen and all
the thunders I ever heard had been rolled into one."
At first they all screamed, fell to the ground and
called on the Lord for mercy, and hid their faces in the

322 WILLIAM DAVIS.
leaves ; but as the branches of the trees around and
above them were cut and falling, he called on his
family to follow him, and running a few steps he
had to return and carry in his arms one of his
children, that appeared to be struck with a palsy of
fear. They all escaped : a sister-in-law had refused
to leave, and when the first shell struck the house
fled to the cellar, but, said the man, " her hair turned
grey." From the neighborhood of this house the
Confederates had removed all their dead.
In one of these outhouses was lying a young man
from Pittsburg, William Davis, the son of James
Davis, Esq., deceased. In the course of two days
he was brought to Savage Station, thence taken to
Richmond, then returned to the Station, and with
the other prisoners removed to James Eiver, and
thence to Baltimore, where he lingered and finally
died in January, 1863. He was an excellent soldier,
a good Christian, and most affectionate son. His
stricken mother has been tAvice honored in the
privilege of giving two sons to her country.
The shadows of evening were falling over the
fields when I turned my horse towards Savage
Station. I had about ten miles to ride, and most
of the way through the encampments of the Con
federates. From the Brackett house I was entirely alone. I
had to ride very slowly, for my poor horse was very
tired, and had been all day without food. I can
never forget that night's ride through the fields of
battle. Until I came to the White Oak Swamp I
had frequent greetings from the officers and soldiers
whose camps I was passing, and was often, asked to

A SOLITARY RIDE. 323
stop and spend the night. I thanked them, but told
them I must go that night to Savage Station for
medicines and supplies.
No sentinel challenged me. When I passed the
swamp I was alone. The dark woods were silent as
a cemetery ; by the side of the road every few rods
was the body of some poor soldier, who, wounded,
had fallen by the way and died alone, and with no
other covering than his overcoat and blanket he
slept as sweetly as if buried in the sepulchre of his
fathers, and certainly Avith more honor.
The road was covered and in many places nearly
obstructed by broken wagons, ambulances, and dead
horses and shattered trees. The moon, nearly at
its full, threw over the dark forests and lonely fields
a robe of silver, and her rays stole down through
the pines, and here and there tMew her quiet light
on the way, and it was not difficult to fill up the
scene Avith spirits clothed in white flitting from spot
to spot.
The great owl hooting amongst the trees, and the
whippoorwill singing on a grave, were the only living
creatures to speak to me and keep me company.
When I passed through one of those dismal forests
and entered a field equally tenantless, the deserted
house, surrounded Avith the mounds of the dead,
was quite as oppressive. I had seen all those
ruins and wrecks of war in the glare of the sun, but
now, as viewed in the tremulous light of the moon,
they wore another aspect, and strange and spectre
like were a thousand objects which started up be
fore me.
The trees standing in the deserted fields looked

824 NEGRO REFUGEES.
as if clothed in flowers, and the wild rose blooming
on the roadside shed its fragrance over the dead.
Not the sound of the foot of an animal, not a single
ray flickering from the window of a house, not a
human being or voice, relieved the gloom of that
valley of death. Here and there were deserted
garments hanging from the branches of the trees,
looking so much like men suspended between heaven
and earth that I approached them with a shudder.
For miles I was entirely alone, and passing through
the former encampments of General Keyes and
General Kearney, I reached the forests on the
Chickahominy. I resolved to find my way to MeadoAV
Station and Carter house hospital through the woods
along a dim path which I had travelled before. I
succeeded in threading my way through the laby
rinth of bush and vine, and in one of the darkest
portions of the path, on a sudden turn, two powerful
negro men stood before me. Fortunately they were
more frightened than I was ; they sprang into the
bushes, and I heard the click of cocking pistols : I
said, " Good night, boys, don't be afraid of me — am
I near to the mill on Meadow Creek ? " With a wise
caution they still stood on their guard, but replied,
"Yes, massa, you come to Mm soon." I thanked
them, gave my horse the spurs, and quickened him
into a gallop, and did not feel altogether comfortable
until beyond shot. I then supposed that these were
refugee contrabands of the neighborhood, who had
stolen out from their hiding-place for forage, or to
find their way to a safer retreat.
At length I reached the mill on the creek ; there
was a large, deep mill-race to be crossed on. a bridge.

A NARROAV ESCAPE. 325
I spurred my horse on to this, but when he had gone .
one or two steps, no urging nor spurring could
induce Mm to advance an inch. I felt assured there
must be some unusual cause for this stubborn rigidity
of the animal. I thought of Balaam and his ass,
and alighted to reconnoitre. To my surprise I found
all the bridge but the first few logs gone, and a
smgle step more would have carried horse and rider
into almost certain death. I patted the horse by
way of maMng an apology for scolding and spurring
' Mm. I then rode back to the mill ; I saw a light
shming through its cracks, and shouted aloud, but
no one answered ; I called again, but still no reply.
They supposed I was a Confederate officer looking
after stragglers. I called again : " Can you tell me
how to cross the mill-dam? " Instantly the voice of
a Southern soldier answered and gave me the proper
direction. I followed Ms advice, and about one
o'clock in the morning reached the hospital, and
found, to my relief, that no one had died during
the day.

28

326 DIVINE SERVICE.

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 — Conversation with an Irish officer.
The morning brought up from the east one of
those suns whose very first rays are spears of fire,
and at the very moment of his rising the whole
world, enveloped in a robe of flame, is melting in
his heat. Very early I assembled all the nurses of
the hospital, and the sick who were able to come
out, to a morning service. Read the Scriptures,
spoke of the lessons suggested by the morning and
our circumstances. We sang a hymn, and I prayed
Avith them. I then prescribed for the sick, and told
them of my purpose to be absent for two days, but
I Avould request Dr. Swinburne to visit them during
this time. I then went to see the patients at Meadow
Station, made the best arrangements for them possi
ble, and provided for supplies of food and medicines.
I resolved to take with me our hospital steward,
Mr. Luke, of the 105th Pennsylvania, whom I had
found to be very skilful in dressing wounds, and
willing to do the utmost for the relief of the suffer-

RETURN TO THE HOSPITALS. 327
ing. We obtained supplies from Mr. Brunot and
Mr. Reed. It may not be uninteresting to record
the articles which were borne out to the hospitals : —
I make the extract from my diary, for some of those
articles may suggest to those whose charity dropped
upon us as the dew of blessing, Avhat use was made
of their gifts.
"Left Savage Station, both horses heavily laden,
about ten a. m., bearing for the use of hospitals in the
field, turpentine, whisky, wine, chloroform, quinine,
opium, laudanum, morphia, Sellers's pills, dried
apples, desiccated potatoes, crackers, toasted bread,
dried meat, prunes, coffee, tea, cocoa, corn-starch,
soap, drawers, bed-sacks, shirts, napkins, pepper,
salt, mustard, bandages, lint, paper, and ink."
The heat on this day was even more oppressive
than on previous days ; and as in former excursions,
we met a great throng of Jackson's men retiring
towards Richmond. They had the appearance of
being in the last stage of exhaustion, and I have no
doubt that a multitude of them died from this cause
alone. But at the same time Ave passed several
regiments of Alabamians going towards James River.
It was eAddent there was then some not fully matured
plan for attacking us in our new position.
We reached the Brackett house hospital, and re
mained there for an hour. I held a short religious
service in the open grounds under the shadow of
the great tree, and there were gathered around me
the wounded and the sick of our army, and many
Confederate soldiers, and all listened with evident
satisfaction to the words of life.
I found that many of our men Avere approaching

328 CAPTAIN REED.
their end, and the nurses in charge of such came
to me and entreated that I would delay long enough
to talk AATith and pray for them before they died. A
father besought that I would go and see his son, and
tell him what he felt unable to say. A brother came
to me and told me with tears that his dear brother
Avas fast sinMng, and if I would only speak to him,
probably when he knew that a minister talked to
him he would arouse to answer, and leave some
word of comfort. With such and many similar re
quests I endeavored to comply, and stood and knelt
beside them. The work to be done here by a
chaplain Avas so great and blessed that I felt the
deepest regret Avhen I had to leave them. I was
sorry to find to-day that my friend, Dr. Underwood,
Avas so unwell as to be much of the time confined
to his room and bed.
The first articles of food which the wounded had
received from the Confederate authorities was on
the previous day, and then only a little- flour and
side bacon. This they had in various ways prepared
to prevent starvation. And many of our wounded
Avere actually dying for the want of food ; for, as
the consequence of the absence of suitable nourish
ment, the sloughing of their wounds was greatly
increased, and the tendencies to fever and gangrene
could not be arrested.
Amongst the officers lying here was Captain A.
Reed, of the 20th Indiana. He was Avounded through
both shoulders. His company had been detailed as
skirmishers, and were so near to the enemy's line of
battle in the slashings and heaAy thickets before he
became aware of their presence, that escape was im-

CAPTAIN REED. 329
possible, and for six hours the company remained
crouched on their faces, exposed to the direct and
cross fire of both lines. As the cloud of smoke in
creased their position became safer, and though
nearly all wounded they were able to fire with deadly
precision on the foe. Seven color-bearers of the
enemy fell by one hand.
Captain Reed was accompanied by a noble, beau
tiful boy of sixteen years of age, who had been taken
from college at his own importunate entreaties, to
follow his father ; and though commissary-sergeant,
he could not be prevented from attending the cap
tain to the field of action. Soon after the battle had
commenced he heard his son exclaim : "Father, I am
shot, I am badly hurt." The captain ran to him and
lifted him up, saying, " My poor boy ! "
He found that he Avas struck through the bowels,
and concluded in a moment that the Avound was
mortal. For an instant he was unmanned. William
rallied soon, smiled, and said: "Father, leave me;
take care of the men." The captain placed a few
leaves and a coat under his head and returned to his
post. Soon the father was struck twice and lay dis
abled, but still directing the fire of the feAV men by
his side. When the battle closed after night they
found themselves within thirty feet of the enemy's
lines. One of the wounded men went forward and
made known that ten or more of our wounded were
lying in the clump of bushes near them. Some of
the Confederate soldiers came forward and helped
them to rise. The captain surrendered his sword
to Colonel Gorman, of the 14th South Carolina.
This the colonel generously returned, and Avith his
28*

330 REV. MR. MOORE.
own hand replaced it in the sash of the captain.
After remaining for five days in a negro hut, the
father and son were taken to Nelson's house and
placed under the care of Dr. Skelton.
While lying without food or any medical attend
ance in this hut, they were visited by a party of gen
tlemen from Richmond. Amongst these was the
Rev. Mr. Moore, pastor ofthe most influential Pres
byterian, church in that place. When Mr. Moore
saw William lying with the sufferers, he exclaimed :
"I declare, here is a fine blue-eyed boy amongst the
wounded Yankees. Why did you come from your
father and mother and school to murder us, burn
our houses, and destroy our cities?"
"Stop, sir," said the captain, "that is my son; I
brought him ; the fault is mine if any one's, and
mine must be the punishment. I think it cruel in
you to come and insult us, and instead of bringing
us relief adding to the misery of our condition. You
know we are in no state to answer you."
" Sir," said Mr. Moore, "I beg your pardon;" and
left the cabin.
The Rev. Mr. Moore is a Pennsylvanian, born near
Huntingdon, and was educated by a ladies' educa
tional society ; and after finishing his preparation for
the ministry Avas invited to Richmond. Here he dis
tinguished himself by the most bitter denunciations
of the North and her free institutions, and literally
forgot his people and his father's house. Some of
his relatives were amongst our wounded men in
Richmond ; but I never heard of his visiting one of
the hospitals where were lying many of the sons

F= s

AVILLIAM REED. 331
and grandsons of those ladies Avho Avere his bene
factors. William Reed bore his sufferings with the greates*
patience : he was far more anxious for his father than
for himself. They were lying together in an upper
room in one ofthe houses at Nelson's place. On the
Sabbath when I saw them there was reason to hope
that both might survive their injuries. William was
in excellent spirits, and was trying to comfort his
father by pictures of home, and their joy when his
mother would dress and bandage their wounds.
During the night several dead men had been borne
to the green plot west of the house, and on the fol
lowing morning there were ten or more lying side
by side. The dew had fallen heavily on their faces,
and in the light of the rising sun glittered on their
brows like gems. William, seated at the window,
looked down upon them and said : " Father, the
sweetest tears that' heaven sheds are the dews that
fall on a dead soldier's face." With a nature so rich
and gifted, what a blessing might this noble young
man have been to Ms parents and country ! but after
living fourteen days, he died in the Libby Prison. I
reached the room in Avhich he lay just in season to
commend his spirit to God — one of the most precious
offerings laid on the altar of our country.
I next rode to Nelson's house, and found the place
surrounded with troops of the Confederacy.
There were very few complaints amongst our men
of any insult, offence, or Avrong done to them by
these men ; on the other hand, they mentioned with
gratitude many acts of kindness. There was a troop
of cavalry in the field near at hand. It was com-

332 A SHREAVD THIEF.
posed of Texans : they were savage-looMng men,
with long uncombed hair, nearly as dark as Indians,
and the face covered with enormous beards ; they
certainly looked more like Bashi-Bazouks than
Anglo-Americans. There was a great deal of thieving around this
hospital. The horses of the surgeons had been
stolen, also their saddles and bridles; their tents
Avere entered, and everything, even to castor oil, Avas
mysteriously filched away. Much of this we have
reason to fear was done by our own soldiers, and the
things sold to Confederate officers. On the previous
day Lieutenant Lowell, of Massachusetts, had died :
he was knoAvn to have had in his possession one hun
dred and fifty dollars, a gold watch, and other valuable
articles, which all disappeared ; and though a rigid ex
amination was instituted, the veil was not lifted. His
servant had the reputation of a "fool," but certainly
was one of the shrewdest blockheads I ever saw : he
had tears of grief over the death ofthe lieutenant, the
photographs of his mother and sisters, which he bore
in his breast, protestations of indignant innocence,
letters of character, scratches of briers or bullets re
ceived in the serAdce of his master, an empty purse,
a shoeless foot, all to parade as the proof that he
could not commit such a crime. I do not believe
that even a New York criminal laAvyer could have
Avrung the story out of the fellow.
I cannot now distinctly enumerate the interesting
conversations I held at this time Avith officers and
soldiers from various States. For many I had let
ters to Avrite, assuring their friends of^heir life. Iu
other cases, memoranda in regard to property were

CAPTAIN ADAMS. 333
committed to me. Some of these letters were most
touching and instructive. The letters of husbands
to their wives, describing the scenes, dangers, and
struggles of the battles, the nature of their wounds,
the hopes of return, etc. ; of sons to their mothers,
full of affectionate remembrances and thanks for the
years of faithful, patient, loving care.
There were several cases of the deepest interest :
one man confessing a sin which now hung like a dark
veil on his soul, that as often as he besought forgive
ness a cloud arose between him and God. Poor fellow !
often did I go to Mm, and Avith closed eyes, uncon
scious of my presence, he was confessing his sin and
praying for mercy. Amongst the wounded here
was Captain Adams, of Sharon, Pa., whose case Avas
almost miraculous. He had been struck by a ball
about one inch above the heart, which passed through
the body, and yet in a few days he was able to walk
around, and was free from pain.
During this day I visited the hospital under the
care of Dr. Marsh, of Honesdale, Pa., then the sur
geon of the 4th Pennsylvania Cavalry. This was
about three-fourths of a mile from the Nelson house,
in the forest. The hospital was in Willis's Church,
on the Quaker road. There were about one hundred
wounded men lying in and around it : until I came,
there had been brought to them no supplies of any
Mnd. For four days they were without bread, and
though the doctor made known their distressing
condition to General Lee, General Jackson, and other
officers of the Confederate Army, nothing was sent
them until the evening of the fourth day, when came
two hundred crackers and one hundred and fifty

334 WOUNDED SUFFERING FOR FOOD.
pounds of fat bacon sides. With this the doctor and
the nurses created such food as was possible. On
the following day they received two barrels of flour,
but they were without cooking utensils of any kind,
and had to roll the flour into small cakes and roast
them in the fire on the end of a stick. This was the
food on AA'hich the wounded were living when I first
came to the hospital.
Dr. Marsh, like a true patriot and generous-hearted
man as he is, shed tears as he described to me the
sufferings of these miserable days. He said noth
ing so much distressed him as the ceaseless cry for
bread, coming from those who were evidently dying
frdm exhaustion and hunger; and that in several
instances, those Avho might have recovered perished
for want of nourishment. The demands of the first
day exhausted all the medical stores he possessed,
and from that time all he could do was to wash and
bandage Avounds, and break and distribute to twenty
mouths the solitary cracker found in the haversack
of a dead soldier. The wounded men of this hos
pital were mostly New York troops, of General
Sumner's corps. Near to the pulpit was lying on
the floor a dead officer: he had just departed. Under
his hand was a pocket Bible ; I gently lifted up the
hand and removed the book, that if possible I might
find his name. On the front leaf was Aviitten : " Ser
geant Joel Chesten, 3d Pa. Reserves."
" Sir," spoke to me a soldier lying by the side of
the dead man, " be so good as to leave the book, for
the print is plainer than in my Testament, and I can
Bometimes read a few words."
" I had no intention of taMng it, my friend ; I only

SERGEANT PRICE. 335
wished to learn the name of our dead brother. I am
glad you wish to have the book ; I knoAv its words
and promises can give you the most precious balm
in this hour."
"Yes, sir," he replied; "I know it to be true;
the man who is lying by me read the Bible aloud as
long as he was able, and when he could no longer
hold it up nor see the words, then I read. We prayed
together, and during the long nights we encouraged
and comforted each other by repeating hymns and
passages of the blessed book. The sergeant was a
good man, and died in perfect peace ; he entered into
rest only a few hours before me. Come, Lord Jesus ;
come quickly."
I then asked him if the hope he had as a Christian
was long standmg or recent.
" Six years ago," said he, " I first confessed my
Lord, and since then I have tried to serve Him, but
now I find He is far more precious to me than ever ;
before, I had to go to Him, but now He comes to me
and places my head on His bosom. I shall soon see
Him, for I know that my Redeemer liveth."
I found on inquiry that his name was John A.
Price, Sergeant 3d Pennsylvania Reserves. He was
evidently near his end, and I afterwards learned from
the doctor he died the evening of that day. Stand
ing by, I commended him in prayer to the care of the
blessed Redeemer, and felt more deeply than ever in
the past how precious was that Gospel "which robs
death of its sting and the grave of its victory." When
I bade him farewell the open Bible of his friend was
lying on his bosom.
I next visited the hospital under the care of Dr.

336 ADJUTANT GAITHER.
Donnelly; this was in a farm-house, near to the
New Market road-; in the open fields about it was
fought the severest part of the battle of Glendale ;
hundreds of graves or mounds of the dead were scat
tered over these fields. The fruit-trees were shat
tered and the branches torn and twisted as by a tor
nado ; each of the houses which formed the cluster
had been the scene of a conflict.
The house was surrounded by many Confederate
soldiers, who were talking with our wounded men.
The first person I saw was Adjutant 0. H. Gaither,
of Bedford, Pennsylvania, son of Samuel. Gaither,
of Somerset, Pennsylvania. He was lying on a small
cot-bedstead, wounded in the right breast, the ball
passing out near the spine. He breathed with con
siderable difficulty. I was greatly impressed with
the remarkable beauty and nobleness of his face ; his
eye had the piercing light which I have often seen
in the look of the wounded. By his side sat a Con
federate officer fanning him. The room was full of
wounded men, several of them cases of amputation.
"What do you think," said he, "doctor, of my
case ? Is it possible for me to recover ? "
"You may ; but your position is very critical, and
the heat, the absence of all comforts, and want of
suitable food, increase the danger. You are in the
hands of God; He only can heal and save from
death." " Sir," said he, looking intently into my face, " are
you a clergyman?" I assured him I was. "Then,"
said he, " you are not one of our men ; you don't
belong to the Union Army."
I told him I Avas a chaplain of a Pennsylvania

ADJUTANT GAITHER. 337
regiment. Instantly his eyes filled Avith tears, and
he said :
" This is the answer of my prayer ; I entreated
God to send to us some minister to talk Avith us and
pray for us, and now you have come as by a miracle.
How did you get here ? "
I told him, from Savage Station ; that I had re
mained and been taken prisoner, in order that I
might be able to do this very work. He grasped my
hand and had a seat brought for me and said :
"Now I want you to tell me of the blessed Jesus.
We want to hear of the sinner's friend."
The poor sufferers around ceased their groaning ;
those who were able arose on their elbows and
listened, while I spoke of the acts, words, and prom
ises of the Redeemer. These blessed truths fell
like balm upon many hearts, and even the Confeder
ate officers shed tears. We sang together one of
our hymns, and we prayed Avith each other. It was
a most affecting scene.
The adjutant then told me that for years he had
been a professed follower of Christ, but that lately
he had been very much occupied with his military
duties, and had not those opportunities for retire
ment and prayer essential for spiritual strength. But
he had never departed from his God, and now as a
sinner he clung as his only hope to the promises of
the Gospel; and that during all the time he had
been lying here the words of the Saviour had been
to him more precious than water in the desert ; and
he wished to bear testimony to the goodness of God
to himself. He never felt so fully assured before of
the divinity and absolute truth of revelation. In his
29

338 ADJUTANT GAITHER.
darkness and suffering the Saviour had visited him
and said: "Son, be of good comfort; I will never
leave thee nor forsake thee." He wished me, if I
never saAV him again, to convey to his father and
mother his dying blessing : he thanked them for all
the patience of their parental love, for all the lessons
they had taught him, for all the prayers they had
poured forth for him, and asked their forgiveness for
AvhatsoeATer sorrow he might have occasioned them
by thoughtlessness, or neglect of their desires and
counsels; that he never felt for them such deep
affection as noAv, and he would wait for them at the
gate of heaven. And to his brothers he sent his
dying love, and would urge them to make early
choice of the Gospel, and live by faith in the Son of
God. All listened with the deepest interest and emotion
to these words of the young officer. I had rarely
seen one more gifted in face and speech, and my
desire was strong that his life might be saved.
The Confederate officer, to relieve the solemnity
of the scene someAvhat, remarked "that the adju
tant and himself would meet in better times ; that
he would have the priAdlege of entertaining Lieuten
ant Gaither and myself at his table in New Orleans,
and shoAving us that he was a Christian and a gen
tleman, though a tiger." His language betrayed
that he was not a native American, but an Irish
man. In a few moments he alluded to the land of
his birth, and said that we might think strange that
he, an Irishman, should be fighting against us. He
then told us that his father had left Rathmelton,
Donegal County, Ireland, many years since, and set-

SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 339
tied in New Orleans ; that his grandmother was still
alive m the old country ; that he remembered Loch
SAvilley and the hills around the old village, and the
graveyard where his ancestors were asleep. He
talked Avith all the freedom and eloquence of an
Irishman, and, amongst other things, said that he
did not regret the taMng up arms against the North ;
and when the independence of the Southern Confed
eracy was acknowledged, as he had no doubt it
soon would be, should the war be reMndled his
sword would be always at her service. In tMs strug
gle she had appealed to arms in order to defend her
rights, and the people ofthe South would rather die
than endure the indigmties and Avrongs inflicted on
them during the last few months.
I said: "Will you be so good as to tell us what
rights of yours we have invaded ? what wrongs have
we inflicted on you ? We have given you a country,
and, by your OAvn account, prosperity. And what
have we done to justify your drawing your sword
and leaguing yourself with those who are now en
deavoring to overthrow the Government of the
land?" "Well," said he, "I read the Declaration of Inde
pendence in my own country, and thought it a noble
instrument, and still think the same. But every
principle which the Revolutionary fathers there as
serted as justifying an appeal to arms, we gather into
our declaration, and all the oppressions the fathers
complained of are ours ; and if they were right, we
are. My father and myself are slaveholders; much
of the property we have accumulated since we came
to this country is in slaves. You wish to rob us of

310 SOUTHERN AVRONGS DISCUSSED.
our servants, and set them all free to cut our throats.
Ought not a man to defend his property, and shoot
down the robber that comes to despoil his home and
take from his children their inheritance ? "
" Did you ever lose one of your slaves ? did the
United States Government ever seize one of them
and pronounce him free? did a Northern officer
ever go to you with an Act of Congress in his hands,
seize your negroes, and scornfully set aside your
claim ? did a wMte man from the North help away
one of your slaves?"
"Well," said he, in reply, "I must confess that we
never lost any of our blacks. But that is neither
here nor there ; others did, and our slaves ran away
from us, and you sheltered and protected them. You
permitted the organization of societies for the very
purpose of aiding the escape of our negroes ; you
permitted meetings to be held in all your towns and
cities, in Avhich we ay ere abused, and slaveholders
classed with thieves and murderers ; you passed
your personal liberty bills, and when we caught our
negroes in the North you sprang on us writs of
habeas corpus, flung us from the magistrate to court;
excited mobs, who hooted us in the street, stoned
us, created tumults, and in the melie assisted our
slaves to escape. After all these evidences of hos
tility to us and our interests, you ask me what are
our wrongs!"
"Yes, my friend," I replied, "I must ask the ques
tion again. Nothing short of the greatest oppressions
and the most grievous and long-continued injuries
can justify a people taking up arms against the Gov
ernment under which they were born. ' The powers

SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 341
that be are ordained of God.' The laAvs and institu
tions of government are essential for the happiness,
civilization, and protection of mankind. No slight
wrong, no transient oppression, Avill excuse the ap
peal to the last resort. The man who takes up arms
against a good government crucifies the most sacred
of human interests. By your OAvn statement you had
suffered no grinding despotism; everything went
along pretty much as you desired. All the Avheels
of the Government Avere under your control; the
army marched and ships sailed as you ordered.
Treaties were made, compromises annulled, com
pacts broken at your bidding. The entire policy of
the Government was changed eveiy five or ten years,
at most, to please you.
" But when we dared to elect a President Avho was
not a Southern man, nor came into office pledged to
sustain your platform — on the very night that his
election is announced you commence scraping lint
in Charleston, and the next day you organize militia
by companies in New Orleans ; take measures to
seize the forts and the arsenals, the ships of war, and
to rob the United States mint and custom-houses,
and you rush to arms, and openly in the court of
the world denounce the North as having violated
the Constitution of the United States, because once
in fifty years we dared to elect a President who had
some sympathy with freedom. That last act of op
pression utterly exhausted a patience Avhich has no
parallel for long suffering and sublime endurance,
except in the history of the martyrs. That last act
was so great a wrong that your manhood, your sense
of justice, your love of liberty, all impelled you to
29*

342 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED.
rend in pieces a government which protected and
blessed all who bore the American name, and con
strained you to stop the industrial pursuits of mil
lions, crimson all your rivers with blood, stain a
thousand fields with human gore, and consign half
a million of your countrymen to the graves of battle.
As for the injury done you by the " personal lib
erty bills," have you no laws against Mdnappers?
are there no such scoundrels in the South ? Occa
sionally such a villain finds his Avay North, and
hatches up a claim against some poor negro who
Avas born free or emancipated by his owner, and ob
tains the aid or connivance of Federal officers in
hurrying to bondage a man entitled to freedom. To
protect such persons and to prevent the perpetra
tion of such crimes, the personal liberty bills were
passed. And as for our permitting meetings to be
held in which you Avere denounced, it is utterly
impossible to prevent assemblies Avhere the peo
ple shall have perfect freedom of speech on all
great questions of morals and government. If we
attempted to strangle liberty of speech, we would
create the worst despotism the world has ever seen.
" But I have been in the habit of thinking that
everything which is just and right welcomes discus
sion and investigation, and only things which are
evil seek the darkness. It strikes me that a people
so free of speech as you are, so unmeasured in your
denunciations of all you deem mean, are guilty of an
amazing inconsistency when you demand of us that
we should create dungeons in the North to be the
grave of liberty. Our fathers fought for freedom
of speech, legislation, and action. You have taken

SOUTHERN AVRONGS DISCUSSED. 343
up arms, according to your own confession, in the
first place, to perpetuate in perfect security the bon
dage of your fellow-men whom you hold as slaves.
In the second place, to imprison and banish from our
country all who dare to hint that slavery is not a
' Divine institution,' and may have connected with
it abuses and oppressions. In the third place, to
compel us to expunge from the statute books of our
States every law which would secure justice to a
negro. "Do you not see that our fathers struggled for free
dom, but you for slavery ? They did so because they
believed that all men had certain inalienable rights,
' the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness ; ' you
for power and the rights of property in man. They
took up arms to destroy Bastiles and dungeons ; you
to create them. They to defend the rights and aid
the oppressed ; you to extinguish forever the ina
lienable rights of millions. They fought to secure for
themselves and tlieir children the blessings of a free
government ; you to extend the dominion of slavery,
and to destroy in all our States freedom of speech
and legislation. Is it not a great outrage on lan
guage to call yourselves the 'soldiers of freedom,'
and your dead the ' martyrs of liberty ? ' "
But as our excited and earnest conversation might
disturb and injure the wounded men in the room, I
proposed that we should continue our discussion in
the open air.
"Before you go," said Adjutant Gaither, "let me
say to our friend that we in the North did not take
up arms to subjugate the South, but to defend the
Constitution and to vindicate our insulted hvws. We

344 SOUTHERN AVRONGS DISCUSSED.
did not Avish to deprive the people of the South of
one right which they had under the Constitution,
but AAre felt bound, by every principle of duty and
honor, to sustain our GoA-ernment in her efforts to
maintain her rightful authority. For my oavii part,
I do not know that I shall ever rise from this cot ;
but if I die, I have no regrets or misgivings. I
left my profession and entered the army as a pri
vate soldier, because I felt that AArhen my country
needed me I could not remain at home without dis
grace. I know that we had no desire to trample
upon the South, or to inflict any injury upon her
people, but we were compelled, by the strongest sense
of duty to God and man, to defend the most sacred
of trusts, and our cause never appeared to me more
worthy the sacrifice of my life than now."
I was rejoiced to hear this testimony from the lips
of the adjutant, speaking as he did Avith great diffi
culty, often panting for breath : his words were most
impressive, and listened to as the last utterances of
one who had given his life for the cause he was de
fending. The Confederate officer and myself Avent
out and stood under the shade of a large apple tree,
which cast a coolingshadow OA'er the space between the
main house and the kitchen. Around us, within ten
feet of the door, Avere many mounds, the last rest
ing-places of our dead. Several of our wounded had
dragged themselves to the shadow of this tree, and
to others near at hand, and were sitting and lying in
every conceivable posture around the trees. Many
Confederate soldiers, mostly of the "Louisiana Ti
gers," were seated among our men smoking and
talking. Nearly all these men belonged to the class

SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 345
known at the South as the "poor whites." When
we had advanced within their circle the Confederate
officer again addressed me, saying :
" Doctor, you do not understand us : Ave had come
to the conclusion that the government of this country
was to be administered for the benefit of the North,
and moreover we were sick and tired to death of the
perpetual noise you were maMng over slavery. We
could not go North without being insulted, and hear
ing ourselves abused in your churches, and seeing
the most infamous things said of us in your papers.
These annoyances, insults, and wrongs drove us to
such a state that we no longer wished to live under the
same Government Avith you. And surely, when such
was the state of feeling in the South, it was best for
us to go off and set up for ourselves, and separate as
Abraham from Lot : we did not want to go to war,
but we did want to be let alone. And all we demand
now is for you to permit us to work out our own
future, make our own laws, and do as we please -with
our own property. What can you hope to gain by
this war ? If you conquer us, you can never be se
cure everywhere in the Confederacy until you have
Mlled the last wMte man, and turned the land into
a desert. Even after you have wasted and destroyed
us, what have you gained ? Nothing to compensate
for a long war, a great public debt, and the death
of half a million of your sons and brothers."
To this I replied: " There were undoubtedly many
citizens of the North perfectly Avilling that you
should be permitted to separate yourselves from the
United States, and start a Confederacy of your own.
We were so fully conAnnced ofthe essential barbarism

346 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED.
of the South, that we had lost all desire to continue
a union Avith such a people. We saw plainly, too,
that there was such an irreconcilable hostility be-
tAveen your institutions and our OAvn, that we could
not live together in peace, and Ave Avere prepared to
listen to any proposition for a peaceful division of
the Union. But instead of this you seized the forts,
arsenals, ships, and arms of the United States Gov
ernment. You tore down the time-honored flag of
the country, and droA^e out of the South all loyal
officers and patriots. Like the assassin, you rushed
upon us with draAvn knife, giving no option but to fight
or die ; you fired upon Fort Sumter, held by a small
garrison of our troops ; and on the night of its fall,
in a congratulatory address by your Secretary of War,
your President and Congress being present, it was
announced that, in less than a month, your troops
Avould be in possession of Washington, and that you
would dictate terms of peace in Philadelphia or New
York. Your leaders plotted the assassination of
President Lincoln in Baltimore, and fully intended
that he should never be permitted to take the oath
of office. We have the proof that you intended to
subvert the entire Government and take possession
of Northern cities, and ' call the roll of your slaves
at the foot of Bunker Hill.' After all this, when
the President summoned 75,000 men to defend the
capital, you sprang upon them unarmed, and mur
dered them in the streets. Everywhere, throughout
the entire South, you rushed to arms, and did every
thing you could, by insults, pillage, the murder of
Union men, and deeds of violence, to hasten and make
inevitable a conflict. We have the evidence that

SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 347
in more than one Southern city you had bands of
assassins who had SAvorn to murder President Lin
coln and the members of his Cabinet, and then seize
the reins of Government. One such infamous band
we knoAv existed in Richmond, Avho Avere bound by
the most horrible oath to proceed to Washington
for the murder of the President ; and part of that
conclave of murderers actually made their appear
ance m the capital, and were only preA^ented from
the accomplishment of their infamous design (April
5th) by the timely exposure to the Government of
their presence and plot. Hoav perfectly preposterous
to talk of peace and an amicable separation, when
such was your spirit and revolutionary plans ! No,
while we were saying, 'Let there be no Avar — let us
compromise — let us meet in a peace convention,
and adjust in the spirit of Christ and catholic patriot
ism all matters in dispute,' you were rejecting every
such overture, and steadily and earnestly preparing
for war, capturing troops in Texas, seizing all the
property of the General Government and of Northern
citizens, leaving us no alternative but dishonor or
war : we had no escape but to fight, or yield to you
as our masters and the future rulers of 'the country.
"We know that you were not satisfied with merely
AvithdraAving the Southern States from the Union,
but you had organized in many of our Northern
States associations and clubs of men to co-operate
with you in overturning all the institutions of the
country, and endeavoring everywhere to introduce
a reign of terror. You never intended to go off
peacefully ; you grasped at the reins of Government,
and aimed at the utter subversion of all the princi-

348 SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED.
pies of constitutional liberty. You drew the sword,
and placing it at our breasts, demanded that we
should yield or die. I will do you the justice to
say that you had no idea of the consequences of
your rebellion. You thought we would be terrified,
and submit Avithout a struggle ; that you could dis
mantle the Ship of State, cut down her masts, and
cast her unmanned into the sea, without a hand being
lifted to avenge the insult. But, as usual with the
proud and arrogant, you had no correct estimate of
the character of the people you despised ; you let
loose upon the country all the horrors which follow
in the train of civil war, and now you must take the
consequences. It is too late now to talk of peaceful
separation ; that was not in your thoughts when you
plotted to seize the capital and humble all the
Free States. We must fight for our homes and
our children; and if your cities are burnt, your coun
try wasted, your property confiscated, and your
slaves set free — when more than half your men fall
in battle, and the remainder are compelled to flee
the country as traitors, it Avill be but a righteous
retribution. On you rests the responsibility of all
the calamities of the time. And you will appear in
the presence of God stained with the guilt of innu
merable murders. From every grave in this field
there goes up a cry to heaven against you.
"And an Irishman, I feel, is especially Avithout
excuse, — you that have filled all Europe and the civ
ilized world with your eloquent denunciations of
tyrants, and come to this country as a refuge from
the oppression of Great Britain; and yet you are
here the defender of an oppression such as Europe

yd

-¦ ¦¦" my. ' yw® x

;tI WILL ASK YOUR GRANDMOTHER TO BLOT YOUR NAME OUT OF THE FAMILY BIBLS."— Chap. XXI.

SOUTHERN WRONGS DISCUSSED. 349
has not seen for a thousand years. For Southern
men, born slaveholders, and who have been from
their cradles reared to the exercise of absolute power,
I have some respect — I appreciate their position.
But for you I feel naught but contempt : the last
man on earth I can excuse as the defender of slavery
is an Irishman. The heroic endurance of your mar
tyred ancestors, their solemn leagues and covenants
signed with their blood, your oft-repeated and most
eloquent pleadings for freedom, pledge an Irishman,
more than any other man, to be true to liberty in
whatever land his lot may be cast. You, like the
masons of Como in the Middle Ages, who went forth
over all Europe to rear those noble Gothic temples
which to-day are the greatest monuments of art and
genius in the world; you leave Ireland, solemnly
pledged to all nations to be everywhere the defenders
of the oppressed, and to rear in all lands the temples
of human liberty. Nearly all your countrymen are
faithful — more than three-fourths of the dead of our
army lying over this field are the sons of Irishmen —
the principles they had been taught by their fathers
impelled them to arms when liberty was attacked.
They were true to the pledges of their ancestors,
and showed themselves worthy of such fathers. But
what of you ? I have been in the town where you
were born ; I have preached in the old church Avhere
your fathers worshipped : I expect to go back again
to Ireland, and amongst the first things I will do Avill
be to find your grandmother, tell her your story, and
get her to blot your name out of the family Bible as
false to the vows of your baptism, and unworthy the
name of an Irishman."
30

350 REBEL ANIMOSITY.
The man quailed, stammered out some excuse,
and tried to say that the force of circumstances had
made him against his will a slaveholder. I found
on looking around on the throng of Rebel soldiers,
that the language I had used to the officer excited
no anger, but rather pleased them. It was probably
that he was arrogant and severe, and they were
gratified in seeing his evident mortification : and as
often before and afterward I took occasion to assure
them that we had no controversy Avith them ; that
if they only knew it, we were fighting their battles
as well as our own ; that this was a war of the aris
tocracy against the principles of republicanism and
freedom. They dared to say but little in reply, but it Avas
plain that, dull and ignorant as they were, they felt
that there Avas some truth in my words. I discovered
in them none of that bitterness of language and
malignity of scowl so often heard in the speech and
exhibited in the looks of distinguished citizens and
officers. Indeed, the soldiers of the Confederate
Army were, Avhen the Avounded fell into their hands,
generally kind and often most humane ; but, Avith a
feAV honorable exceptions, the wealthy citizens of
Virginia and the officers of the army were without
pity, and influenced by a hate so intense that the
most Adolent language failed to express it. After
spending three or four hours in this place I bade the
wounded and dying farewell, never expecting to see
Lieutenant Gaither again on earth.
After stopping at various small houses, Avhere were
lying from twenty to forty of our Avounded, I started
on my return to Savage Station. I was glad to learn

SCARCITY OF MEDICAL STORES. 351
at these various small hospitals that Dr. Swinburne
had visited them, assisted in difficult amputations,
and brought their condition before the Confederate
authorities. Many of these poor fellows Avere left
in a state ofthe greatest misery and want. Officers
from General Lee's army Avould frequently ride up
to our large hospitals, such as Brackett's house and
Nelson's house, and upbraid our surgeons for per
mitting many of our men to remain in those remote
cabins without food, nurses, or medical attendance.
But all the medical stores of our surgeons had been
taken from them or exhausted; of food they had
none, and they were physically unable to attend to
those brought to their tents. It was most palpable
that the Rebel Army Avas but poorly supplied with
those sanitary and medical stores which with us were
deemed so essential. And what they had were dis
pensed without method.

352 NURSES REMOVED TO RICHMOND

CHAPTER XXII.
Removal of Mr. Brunot and Volunteer Nurses to Richmond —
Funeral at Carter's House — Soldier's Conversation with Stone
wall Jackson.
When I reached Savage Station I learned that
Mr. Brunot, the volunteer nurses who had come from
Pittsburg, and the Rev. Mr. Reed, were ordered up
to Richmond. They were already on the cars for
departure. I had only time to receive from Mr.
Brunot instructions to take his tent, and dispense his
stores of medicines and sanitary goods among the
Avounded and destitute. From this time (July 8th)
until our removal to Richmond, I spent the day at
Savage Station, returning each evening to the hos
pital at Carter's house.
No one can give the history of those wretched
days. We were in the midst of the field of battle.
The air for miles became intolerably offensive. If
the warm, stagnant atmosphere Avas stirred for a
moment by a Avind, there was borne to us not a
breath of SAveetness, but an odor so foul that we
turned sick and shuddered as in a palsy.
To the hundreds of Avounded and suffering men
Avho Avere in all the conditions of human misery, we
daily and hourly ministered as we could. But in
consequence of the removal to the Richmond prisons

SURGEONS DISABLED. 353
of Mr. Brunot and the corps of volunteer nurges, the
labor that devolved upon the surgeons and nurses
who remained was severe and exhausting beyond
endurance. Several Avere prostrated with sickness,
and in a few days one-half of the surgeons were
unable to attend to any duty whatever. In the mean
time our distresses were increased by the "taking
from Savage Station and removal to Richmond of
all the stores which had been saved in the general
conflagration. This was done on the pretence that
all our wounded men were to be immediately re
moved and paroled. Our men were thus robbed of
the articles essential for their recovery, and were
left Avithout bread, fresh meat, crackers, prepared
soups, dried fruits, and all those delicacies which
had been sent to us for such a time. Fortunately I
had secured, in the retreat of our army, some beeves
and sheep, wMch were guarded with the greatest
care ; and these gave food and soup to the men of
tMee hospitals for some days.
To this Dr. Swinburne alluded in his report to
Governor Morgan, of New York. He says : " Up to
this time we had been enabled to furnish ourselves
with some fresh meat and soups, from some beeves
which remained in the charge of Rev. Dr. Marks,
U. S. A., who had charge of a small fever hospital
about one mile from Savage Station, of about one
hundred patients, the management of which requires
some notice ; and though I have not any statistical
report, I think it the best-managed and disciplined
hospital in Virginia. But now the remnants of our
stock, including instruments, medicines, ice, band
ages, lint, etc., having been taken by the Confederate
30*

354 SCARCITY OF FOOD.
Medical Director, under the alleged impression that
Ave were to be removed to Richmond and paroled.
" But all was gone and our removal delayed, we
were obliged to depend on the material furnished
by requisition upon the Confederate government, or
by purchase with our own funds. Up to this time
the officers had furnished the principal part of their
OAvn subsistence by purchase. The rations furnished
by the Confederates Avere only flour and poor bacon,
while food for the sick was very expensive and dif
ficult to obtam. The inhabitants were unwilling to
sell except for gold, and were also instructed from
Richmond not to sell to the 'Yankees.' It was
therefore difficult to obtain anything, even at the
most exorbitant prices.
"In this dilemma, I wrote to Dr. Guild, M. D. C. S.
A., our condition and wants, who answered by send
ing next morning Dr. Winfield, Medical Inspector
of Hospital Camps, and accompanying him was Colo
nel  , of General Lee's staff, and sent by him. Li
answer to these gentlemen as to what Ave were feed
ing our patients, I stated that flour and bacon were
our only food and medicine, and the meat Avas not
only limited in supply, but absolutely maggoty. This
statement was confirmed by Lieutenant Lacy Stew
art, commanding post. I referred them to the war
worn and exhausted countenances of the patients.
What little choice stores we had were removed on
the 15th instant."
In this statement the doctor speaks of purchasing
articles of food from the inhabitants of the country.
I kneAV of but one farm on which anything could be
purchased, and this was the place of Mrs. Couch,
/

SUFFERINGS FROM HUNGER. 355
which General McClellan had encircled with guards
for its protection. The corn, sheep, and cows that
remained Avere sold to our sick and officers at fabu
lous prices. Strawberries one dollar a pint, milk
one dollar a quart, a lamb ten dollars, a pint of
blackberries fifty cents, and twenty-five cents for an
egg, and even at these rates there were but few who
could obtain anything. In order to meet these de
mands on them for food, the officers and surgeons
sold their watches and clothing. I was obliged to
sell my oavu watch, which I valued principally on
account of its having accompanied me in journeyings
in other lands, for fifteen dollars in Confederate mo
ney, but I had the satisfaction of knowing that it
purchased many a loaf of bread for those who were
hungry and destitute of means.
During those days when the pressure of want Avas
constantly increasing, the sufferers were no longer
in trouble that their wounds should be washed and
bandaged; but when we entered their tents, one
hundred hungry faces were turned towards the sur
geons, and the cry was " bread ! bread ! "
Dr. Swinburne did everything in his power to
obtain supplies of medicine and food, and made re
newed appeals, stating that the wounded were dying
of want ; and amongst the surgeons and nurses,
nearly all were ill with fevers from exhaustion and
want of proper nourishment; that our medicines
were entirely expended, and all were in danger of
perishing ; that the bacon which was sent us would
be considered anywhere else the most miserable
offal. In reply was received : — Camphor, 1 lb. ; cerate,

356 DEATHS FROM EXHAUSTION.
1 lb. ; adhesive plaster, 5 yards ; iodine, 1 oz. ; opium,
J lb. ; tincture of iron, J lb. ; whiskey, 5 galls. ; ban
dages, 6 doz. ; lint, 1 lb. These articles wTere sent
as the supply, for more than a fortnight, of fifteen
hundred sick and wounded men. This was but to
mock our misery, but may have indicated as much
their poverty as their inhumanity. But we could
not evade the conclusion that the Confederates had
no desire for the restoration to health of those whom
the fortune of war had thrown into their hands.
In the midst of these distresses our indignation
was greatly increased against the Rebel government
by the bringing into Savage Station of one hundred
wounded men, who had been left on the battle-field
of Gaines's Mill, on Friday, the 27th of June, and
from that day until the 16th of July had nothing
but flour and water. The flour was prepared by the
surgeons and nurses in every way that they could
devise to nourish and eke out life. But Avithout
salt, no effort could make palatable the tasteless
porridge and half-baked cake. And thus for twenty
days, within eight miles of Richmond, and their
condition fully known to the officers of the Con
federate army, these wounded and disabled soldiers
were left to perish of want.
The sufferings of these men, as described to me by
Dr. Churchill, of the 4th ^iew York Volunteers, who
remained Avith them during all these dismal days,
were most painful. Many died of hunger and ex
haustion, and some of them, when brought to Savage
Station, lived but a few hours. Dr. Smith, now of
the convalescent camp near Washington, was at this
time one of the most active and humane of the sur-

DR. SMITH. 857
geons. After those brave and skeleton-like men had
been brought in and laid down on the grounds near the
station, he approached a group of them ; they begged
for bread ; he took out of his haversack four or five
hard crackers, Avhich he had gathered up to preserve
Mmself from starvmg ; these he gave to them, telling
them, Avith tears, that they were the last, and he was
very sorry that he had nothing more to give. He left
them, but their wan and haggard faces haunted him.
He begged a few drops of liquor from a brother sur
geon and returned and administered it to them.
Dr. Smith subsequently met two of these soldiers
at Fortress Monroe, who spoke to him and reminded
him of the scene when he gave his last cracker to
the wounded soldier at Savage Station, and told him
that they felt sure that cracker and ounce of whisky
had saved their lives, for from that hour the pulses
of life began to return to them, and they would never
forget him. " The bread cast upon the waters re
turned before many days."
All tMs time, wMle our sufferers were perishing for
food, around Carter's house the fields were covered
with ripe blackberries, and the woods were filled
with whortleberries, which would have been at
once food and medicine. But there was no one
to gather them ; the nurses were already exhausted
with their labors and hunger combined ; not one
could summon strength or courage to go into the
open field and run the risk of meeting bands of Con
federate soldiers who might fire upon him. How
ever, the time came when this coveted fruit seemed
witMn their reach.
I had left Savage Station, to attend the funeral of

358 FUNERAL OF MR. COATES.
a Mr. Coates, of the 57th Pennsylvania, of Tioga
County, Pennsylvania, who died of typhoid fever.
We carried the body into the orchard, our custom
ary place of interment. All that' were able to leave
the house attended the funeral service, and after
singing an appropriate hymn we laid the dead soldier
alongside of many of his departed comrades'. When
they were assembling it was a most touching sight ;
soihe hobbling along, others carried in the arms of
companions scarcely stronger than themselves; all
coming to show their respect for one who had so
faithfully nursed them. I took occasion to impress
upon them that the two great duties of the hour
were, first, patience, the uncomplaining endurance
of their sufferings ; second, charity, making the effort
to do all that was possible for others in a worse con
dition, and that rarely in the life of man was there
such an opportunity to display heroic endurance on
the one hand and heavenly charity on the other ;
that we gathered from the sacred Scriptures that
nothing was more pleasing to God than deeds of
charity ; that, though they were wounded and stag
gering, and had scarce strength even to care for
themselves, yet they ought to be deeply affected by
the sufferings of those that had more to endure than
themselves, and by words and deeds show that they
were prompted by the spirit ofthe Gospel, and remem
bered Him who pleased not Himself. I then re
minded them of how greatly they had been benefited
lately by the use of the wild fruit which grew so
abundantly about us, and that the diseases of many
weeks, which had defied all the usual medical reme- '

THE SICK GATHERING BLACKBERRIES. 359
dies,- had disappeared under their influence, and they
had found these better than balms or elixirs.
At this very hour, at Savage Station, within a mile
of us, were lying two thousand of our fellow-sol
diers, prostrated by wounds and fevers, unable to
obtain a single one of those luscious berries which.
grew in such profusion under their eyes. They, in
their feverish longing for that beyond their reach,
no doubt prayed the blessed God to send down His
angels to bear to them the fruit which they deemed
would be almost a life-restorer. Could they not be
those angels ? Would they not be stronger in con
sequence of the endeavor to be benefactors ? I left
tMs appeal -with their own hearts, reminding them
that in all probability such another opportunity would
never come to them, and begging them to remember
that in the day of God's judgment we should find
mercy as we had shown mercy. In a few moments
after the service was concluded, I was delighted to
see every man who could stagger moving over the
fields gathering the fruit, not for themselves but for
others. Every face was lighted with greater satis
faction, because engaged in unselfish labors. At
sundown, when their cups were emptied, more than
a bushel of berries had been gathered by men who
were scarcely able to drag themselves from their
beds. On the following morning this labor of love
was renewed. Before nine o'clock, Corporal Robert
Speer and Sergeant Temple, of the 105th Pennsyl
vania, brought to my tent at Savage Station more
than three bushels of berries, which had been gath
ered by the sick at Carter's house.
The persons who had brought up these berries

360 VISITS OF CONFEDERATE OFFICERS.
carried them round to the various tents. Many
were the expressions of gratitude and many the
tears. When they entered the tents, the inmates
hailed them with, " Come here, mister, I '11 buy from
you!" "Where did you get them?" "What's
the price?" And Avhen they were told that they
had been gathered by sick men for those who
were in a worse condition than themselves, their
astonishment was unbounded ; they wondered that
any one had chanced to think of giving them such
a treat. Some entreated the donors to take money ;
others Mssed their hands, with every expression of
gratitude. To some it seemed a painful pleasure, it
so forcibly brought to mind home and distant friends. >
One poor fellow, as the fruit was handed to him,
shed tears, and exclaimed, " One year ago I was in
the mountains gathering berries with my wife and
children : shall I ever be able to do so again ? " Speer
and Temple returned to my tent and told me of this
affecting scene, and thanked me that I had assisted
to teach that it was more blessed to give than to re
ceive. And from this time until our removal to
Richmond, all the sick and wounded who were able
to crawl into the fields at Carter's house daily found
recreation and delight in gathering fruit for the
wounded sufferers at Savage Station.
During the days that intervened between our cap
tivity and removal to Richmond, we had frequent
visits from some of the most distinguished Con
federate officers. In their excursions from their
camps to Richmond they would often gratify their
curiosity by stopping an hour at our hospitals.
Amongst the most noted of these visitors was Stone-

STONEAVALL JACKSON. 361
wall Jackson. I had heard of him as alighting at
several hospitals near the James river. On one of
these occasions, when the general had ridden into
the grounds in front of the hospital, one of our
wounded soldiers, a man who would stand una
bashed in the presence of Queen Victoria, and speak
with as much freedom to the Grand Sultan as to the
captain of his company, approached and spoke to
him: "How are you, general ? "
" Well, I thank you ; how are you, soldier ? " Are
you badly hurt?"
" Not very dangerously, general ; war is a terrible
thing, is it not, general ? There ought to be some
very good reason for tearing poor men to pieces, as
you see these have been ; do you not think so,
general ? "
" Yes, certainly, soldier, war is a dreadful curse ;
there is a great sin somewhere. Are many of your
men dymg, soldier ? "
" Yes, eight or ten every day, and if we do not
receive food, we Avill all perish. General," contin
ued the soldier, " how many men did you bring down
from the valley ? "
"I cannot tell you, certainly; how many do you
think?" " I suppose," said the soldier, " seventy thousand."
" You are not far Avrong," said the general ; " who
is your general ? "
"Kearney, as brave a man as ever drew a sword;
do you know him, general ? "
" Oh, yes, well ; you are led by a good officer.
Good-bye, soldier."
31

362 STONE AY ALL JACKSON.
" Just one word more : general, you believe in
prayer, and that God is on your side, do you not? "
said the soldier, turning up his bandaged face, and
looking Avith his one well eye at the general, and at
the same time toying with his bridle rein.
"I believe in prayer, and that God is on the side
of right."
"Exactly, general, so I believe ; but because you
think you are right and I am wrong, you command
your soldiers to shoot me ; and because I think our
cause right and yours wrong, I try to shoot you ; we
cannot both be right — one of us must be a great sin
ner, and who is to decide ? I should like to tell you,
general, the talk I had with my wife and children
before I enlisted, and how my prayers were an
swered." " That would be very interesting, soldier, but not
to-day ; I have far to ride and much to do. Good-
bye." General Jackson had more personal power and
popularity than any officer in the Confederate Army.
He was easily approached; never severe nor stern;
unwilling to inflict military punishment, except
where every other expedient had failed. He never
indulged himself in any luxury, but partook of the
simple and frugal fare of the common soldiers. He
had but little of the manner of a slaveholder, but
Avas patient, considerate, and unselfish. The love
of order Avas one of the most striMng and remarka
ble things in his character. If he was in the tent
of a brother officer, he envarialy left it at nine p. M.,
and retired to his own. If any persons were in his
tent after nine o'clock they were expected to unite

STONEWALL JACKSON. 363
with Mm in his evening devotions, and not linger a
moment after the prayer was ended. He was by no
means a broad-minded man, but ardent, intense,
honest. Deeply conscientious, and always true to
his religious convictions. Into the tumult and wick
edness of an army he bore all the devout habits, rigid
temperance, and austere piety of his home. His
great force of character moulded all who came around
him, or were under Ms command, and soon they fol
lowed him as invincible, because uniting as they
thought to the highest military genius the sanctity
of a prophet. He impressed his own religious views
upon all the officers and men of his portion of the
Confederate Army. Rarely did an oath pass the
lips of one of Ms men, and in the side pocket of each
I saw mvariably a New Testament. In appearance,
General Jackson was rather a commanding man ;
the expression of his face was grave and sad ; his
words were few, and did not flow with freedom; but
his whole manner was that of one who felt that he
was equal to any emergency; with him to deliber
ate was to act, and to plan was to do. His success
as a commander was due in part to the enthusiasm
of his troops, but in a great measure to the fiery im
petuosity with which he rushed his soldiers against
some weak point of our lines, and if at first defeated,
he brought up another column, and if again these
were compelled to fall back, another, and it mattered
not how many of his men fell, he persevered, break
ing the line by the force of repeated blows and com
pelled a retreat on our part, or a readjustment of
our forces. My impression from all that I could
learn was, that he had entered into the war with

364 STONEWALL JACKSON.
hesitation, for he was well acquainted with North
ern people, and up to the commencement of hos
tilities had been a Union man. But when Virginia
threw herself into the Southern Confederacy, he
offered his services, and whatever conscientious
scruples he may have entertained at the commence
ment of the contest were lost in his enthusiasm, for
action. And he soon began to entertain the idea
that he too was a " soldier of destiny," and raised up
to demonstrate that it was possible to make some
most important improvements in the science of war.
The devotion of his followers, his military genius
and energy, his unfeigned piety, would have done
much to prolong the present contest, for his presence
was equal to half an army.
It is remarkable that amongst his dying words
there are none which speak hopefully of the future
of the Southern Confederacy, or give the assurance
that he was convinced of the righteousness of that
cause for which he had given his life. But from
whatever side we look at him, he was one ofthe most
remarkable men whom this war has brought forth
from the bosom of obscuritv.

REMOVAL OF THE SICK. 365

CHAPTER XXIII.
Removal of the Sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station to
Richmond — The Confederate Commissary's Criticisms on our
Generals — The Removal of seven hundred and fifty of our
Wounded to Richmond on the 13th July — Scenes in the Streets
— Libby Prison.
On Saturday, the 12th of July, there came from
Richmond several wagons and omnibuses to remove
the sick at Carter's house and Meadow Station, and
about dark the long train from these places started
on its way. The nurses and men who were able to
walk part of the way were placed in line and sent in
advance. I rode with the sick for two miles. They
were all full of hope, for this was a step out of tho
wilderness of sorrow and was bearing nearer the gate
of deliverance. There were three of the sick whom
I never expected to see again. The Confederate
officer who had command of the train was from Bal
timore, and was one of those free, easy and swelling
characters, who under the greatest freedom and loose
ness of speech conceal the deepest cunning. We
rode together through the forest, and he imparted
to me freely his Ariews ofthe Confederacy and of their
generals. I asked what were his hopes of their ulti
mate success. He assured me that they would cer
tainly be conquerors ; that they were united, while
31*

866 REBEL DUPLICITY.
we were diAdded ; that they had made up their minds
to sacrifice everything rather than yield; that no
offer we could make to them would be listened to
for a moment ; they wished to be independent and
establish the grand Model Republic of this continent.
"Yes, sir," said he, lifting himself in his stirrups
and stretching wide his arms as if with one hand
grasping the shore ofthe Atlantic, and with the other
touching the waters of the Pacific, "we will do it.
Everything favors us ; the star of promise beckons
us on, — and we follow it. Providence says to us, arise
and conquer. We have generals equal to Moses and
Joshua, and greater than Csesar."
" Colonel," said I, " do you think we lost as many
men in the recent battles as you did? You know
the battle of Malvern Hill was very fatal to your
men." "Think," said he; "sir, I know and assure you,
on the honor of a gentleman, that you lost three to
our one."
"Do you judge, colonel, from the appearance of
the dead upon the field, or from other sources of
knowledge ? For if your conclusion has been reached
by riding over the fields of battle my judgment may
be as good as yours, for I have been there and must
confess that some things struck me with amazement.
In some fields where great numbers of your men fell
there is not one of your dead, but all have been
removed, even the horses which fell at your batteries
are buried, and the graves of our dead are made as
prominent as possible ; for each one there is a mound
of earth, while in places where your dead were so
numerous that you could not remove them you in-

REBEL DUPLICITY. 367
terred three, four, and even ten, in the same pit,
thus concealing your dead and taking every measure
to display ours to the full; and at the head of every
grave of a Union soldier you were certain to leave
out his cap or a fragment of his blue coat, or a shred
of his pantaloons, as a sign that a Yankee had fallen
there ; and I have every reason to believe that you
scattered these mementoes of our troops amongst
the graves of your oavu men. I have been enough
among you to know what you hoped to gain by all
this. Have I not seen riding over those same fields
great numbers of gentlemen from Richmond, and
even ladies, and have heard here and there a hun
dred times the remarks: 'Look at those graves, but
the caps, blue clothes, and even shoes, show who lie
here ; our men must have Mlled more than a hun
dred to one of the Yankees.' 'Look at those horses ;
that is where we took their batteries.' And in those
portions of the fields where even you confess you
suffered terribly, none of your dead are found, and
around that negro house in the battle-field of Glen
dale, where, at the lowest calculation, you left five
hundred dead men, not one grave of yours is seen,
and after you had removed nearly all your slain and
buried them in out of the way places and scattered
these fragments ofthe clothing of the Union soldiers
about every grave, then you invited all Richmond to
ride over the fields of your glorious exploits ; and if
all these were disconsolate on account of their dead,
they were sent back to your capital with the delight
ful assurance that, for every one you had lost, there
had been ten Yankees Mlled.
ft Yes, colonel, what I witnessed there more fully

368 REBEL "STRATEGY."
convinced me that your Confederacy is a sham, as is
the .case in every sinking concern, you keep your
selves in courage by whistlings, swaggerings, and
concealments. The Confederacy is like an old wind-
shaken, sun-dried, unoiled wagon, which, as it comes
rattling down a hillside, makes more noise than a
whole army-train."
He burst into a loud laugh. "Now," said he,
"have you lived to your time of life and not yet dis
covered that the world is governed by shams ? What
was all that talk of your Government, your generals,
and your papers, about strategy but the emptiest of
all shams ? The fact is, Doctor, sham is the horse
that wins the race in these days, and truth is blown
out and distanced in less than a mile. I am far from
agreeing with you in regard to the policy of our
generals in disposing of our dead. I call that a piece
of brilliant strategy ; it kept our people in heart and
made them think that if Richmond was full of
wounded and dying, we had broken and destroyed
your army. Doctor, you may as well give up this
contest. God is not on your side, or else he would
have given you generals Avith some brains. Why,
we planned all this campaign for you in Richmond,
and had our friends in Washington to secure its
adoption. It worked better than Ave anticipated.
You took the very course we had chalked out for.
you, except that you dug the graves of many thou
sand more men at Yorktown than we had dared to
hope for. There will be many astounding things
brought to light when this war is over."
"You know," I said to him, "that General Mc
Clellan alone is responsible for this campaign, and

REBEL CRITICISMS. 369
I have heard you express very great respect for his
ability, and you said this was the sentiment of the
officers of your army."
"That is true," he replied, "General McClellan
deserves credit for being one of the greatest engi
neers of the age. He has throAvn up here and before
TorMown monuments of Ms genius, but he needs
some man of ability and common sense to tell him
where to construct them ; they are just about as valu
able as the first five miles of a railroad to the moOn.
General McClellan digs his entrenchments, throws
up his redoubts, and if we would only accommodate
him by standing still, or by not advancing upon him
till he was fully ready, he would certainly whip us.
But when he looks for us m front, we are turning
his rear, and when he expects us to attempt to carry
his works by storm, we determine to change his base
of operations. But here we part ; when you come
to Richmond let me know of it, and I will take you
over the city, and aid you in every way in my
power." Sunday, July lBth. — Very early on the morning
of tMs day there came doAvn from Richmond a long
train of dirt and box cars, for the removal of all the
wounded who could be carried on them. There was
great uncertainty in regard to the design of this
change. The orders were indefinite, the officers who
brought them had no authority, and thought we were
not to stop in Richmond, but to be taken to James
River, and placed on our transports ; others supposed
we were to be sent to Lynchburg and Salisbury.
Soon every spot was crowded with men eager to
escape from the confinement and misery of a place

370 RANDOLPH SPEAR.
where so much suffering had been endured. We
had, little food to give to the seven hundred and fifty
men who crowded the cars, and many of them, in
the charity of hope, gave all the crackers in their
haversacks to those Avhom they were leaAdng. Two
or three surgeons and myself were detailed to go
with them. Before the hour for starting, I visited
the tents where were lying the persons most dan
gerously wounded. Amongst this number I came
to a young man, whom I saw at a glance was rapidly
nearing the veil which' separated the present from
the mystery of the future. His right limb had been
amputated. I had seen and talked with him before,
but now, feeling that the last words were to be spoken,
I lingered for many minutes by his side. He told
me his name was Randolph Spear; that his father's
family were living in Elizabeth, Pennsylvania; thathe
was of the 8th Reserve Corps ; and, as in many cases
of death from wounds, he possessed to the full all his
faculties, and could speak Avith ease. In the course
of conversation I found that he had no hope of life,
but felt certain that he had not many hours to live.
I asked him of his hopes beyond the grave ; if he
had made any preparation for meeting his Maker.
He was like most soldiers, free and frank in speech.
He said that he had intended to become a pious man,
but had deferred from time to time, until he now
felt he must die, and it was too late, and did not
know that it was worth while for him to pray or give
Mmself any trouble about his fate. I urged the duty
of confessing his sins, and like the prodigal son, re
turning to the Father whom he nad offended; that the
greatness of Christ's love was b eyond all our thoughts ;

RANDOLPH SPEAR. 371
that He delighted to lift us up out of the depths of
our sinfuMess and misery ; that even now he could
look up to the Lamb of God and live. He asked me
to pray for him before I left. I clasped together his
cold and now palsied hands, and lifting them up in
my own commended the dying soldier to Him who
endured for us the sufferings of death. When the
prayer ceased his face was Wet with tears. I saw
that the rock was smitten.
" That prayer," said he, "reminds me of my mo
ther. I knelt at her knee when I was a child, and she
prayed for me, and now all her holy words come
back to me. Oh, my mother ! shall I see her in the
Mngdom of God? her Saviour will be mine ! "
I bade him farewell. On the following Wednes
day a soldier met me at the depot in Richmond and
said, " The soldier that you talked with and prayed
for in Tent No. 5 died the night after you left, but
prayed until the last ; and, after you had gone, said
many things that deeply moved us all." May we
not hope that the prayers of a pious, sainted mother
were answered, and the angels sang, "The lost is
found, and the dead is alive again ! "
About noon I took my place in the cars, bearing
with me one or two blankets for bedding, and two
trunks full of such medicines and sanitary stores as
I had saved. I had preserved nearly a hundred dol
lars' worth of quinine, some surgical instruments,
bandages, some papers of cocoa, and a pot of butter ;
all which had been left by Mr. Brunot. When I
had taken my place in the midst of the wounded, I
was surprised to find that there were none of the
surgeons Avho had been detailed to go with us

372 REBEL CHARITY.
but Dr. Fox, a volunteer surgeon from. Philadel
phia. We bade farewell to the surgeons and
nurses, expecting them to &11oav the next day, and
slowly the cars moved away from Savage Station.
We stopped at Fair Oaks and Orchard Stations,
taMng on board parties of gentlemen from Rich
mond. I found myself seated alongside of two well
dressed and very communicative gentlemen from
the city. They soon told me that they were the
moving spirits of a benevolent society in Richmond,
the special mission of which was to look after, their
wounded, collect such property of their dead as could
be found, and to visit the battle-fields for these pur
poses. In the prosecution of this most charitable
work, these gentlemen had laid in a large supply,
not of bread and wine, but of Confederate money,
which they were most industriously exchanging with
our men for greenbacks, " because they pitied these
poor hungry, fainting wretches, and they could ob
tain nothing in Richmond for Federal money." And
though they assured us it was at a loss, they ex
changed dollar for dollar. For the time I thought
that some little of the milk of human Mndness was
left in the Rebel capital, and looked on these grave
and hard-faced Southerners as men who truly pitied
us, and who, at some loss and peril, would benefit
even their enemies. I talked with them with more
freedom, and pardoned the bitterness and rage
Avith which they spoke of our invasion ofthe sacred
fields of Virginia, because, though they gave us mo
bread, nor even looks of pity, they took our unne-
gotiable money, and gave us in return that whkh
would buy us food ; but, alas, the quality of their

REBEL BRAGGADOCIO. 373
mercy was to confer the largest blessing on them
selves. When we reached Richmond I found that
our money was selling at seventy and eighty per
cent, premium, and these affable representatives of
a benevolent society were maMng, m the exercise of
a most self-denying pity, two dollars for one. They
were likewise loaded down Avith revolvers, which
Avere worth in their market forty and fifty dollars,
wMch they had Mndly relieved our men of at the
rate of two or three dollars a piece. They had like-
vrise, with the aid of four or five negro servants, col
lected a large number of our overcoats and shawls.
They were " looMng after the interests of their brave,
heroic men," but everything was so managed as to
contribute to the well-being of their own houses —
wisdom walked by the side of charity. These gen
tlemen were so Mnd as to point out to me the strength
of the defences of Richmond, and to likewise inform
me of the number of guns in the several fortifica
tions crowning the heights. Every half mile the old,
crazy locomotive attempted a whistle, and stopped
on the track ; this would summon to the road a bri
gade of wild, savage-looMng Confederate soldiers,
who crowded around the cars, and with evident de
light looked in on the "wounded Yankees."
¦ My friends of the benevolent society considerately
made me acquainted with the names of various regi
ments and their commanders ; and I was further in
debted to them for gloAving details of the brilliant
feats of those " Southern heroes." " They had never
been whipped and never could." " Two regiments
of them had defeated an entire corps of McClellan's
army," etc., etc. Again the wheezy, consumptive
32

374 ARRIVAL AT RICHMOND.
engine would attempt a move ahead, and if there
was an ascendmg grade, frequently half an hour was
expended in pulling and dislocating jerks, and after
the progress of another mile, we again stopped and
summoned another crowd of Rebel soldiers. Of
these, my friends of the Confederate money had
even more astounding deeds of valor to relate.
" These were the heroes of an hundred battles— from
every field they had returned conquerors," which I
suppose accounted for the fact that they were nearly
all dirty and ragged.
When we reached the dep6t, my friends of the
charitable fraternity bade me farewell, and were so
Mnd as to assure me that it would afford them the
greatest pleasure to call upon me if I remained in
Richmond. Possibly I might need a little Confed
erate money. As an expression of regard, they
should esteem it a pleasure to exchange for " green
backs." I thanked them. I had no need of money
at present. We separated, they assuring me that
they would call to-morrow; but, I am sorry to say,
I was forgotten. Their benevolent labors were so
unintermitted and absorbing that they never had
time to honor me with any remembrance. When
Ave entered Richmond there were many evidences
of former wealth and prosperity. There were many
fine suburban residences on the hills, and lofty, com
manding warerooms and storehouses stood behind
the wharves and depots. But these were now empty;
the streets were gloomy and silent; the grass was
growing in the great thoroughfares at the depdts ;
the boats in the canal were sunk and rotting ; not a
vessel was lying at the wharves. When we entered

THE GEORGIA MAJOR. 375
the York River depots we were surprised to find
no one there to receive us. Here and there a
guard walked on his beat, but it was evident our
eonfing was an event unheralded. In a few mo
ments the arrival of the "wounded Yankees" at
tracted a crowd of citizens, officers, soldiers, chil
dren, and negro servants.
An hour and more passed away, and it began to
be highly probable that we would have to remain in
the cars all night. In the meantime the crowd in
creased ; and, with the exception of the German wo
men and children, I looked in vain for one human
face that lighted in sympathy, or softened in pity
for our miseries. The negroes stood at a distance,
Avith the appearance of those who beheld a spectacle
that startled and overwhelmed them. But well-
dressed officers and gentlemen walked near the cars,
and looked in on pale, bleeding, and maimed suf
ferers with complacent satisfaction. And even ladies
came near, and gazed in on spectacles of the most
touching distress, Avithout one expression of com
passion. But one uttered the Avish of many : " It
is a great pity that all of them were not Mlled."
As I stood on the platform I was addressed by an
officer of a Georgia regiment; he was a major in
rank, and a fine-looMng, powerful man.
"In Richmond, doctor?" said he, with a sneer,
Supposing, as a matter of course, that I was a surgeon.
*' Yes, sir, I presume so."
"Somewhat sooner than you expected?" he
said. " Oh no, sir ; I expected to be in Richmond more

376 THE GEORGIA MAJOR.
than a month ago, when we Avhipped you at the bat
tle of Fair Oaks."
"And why did you not come then ? " rejoined he.
" Because our right wing could not come to our
aid, and we did not know soon enough how com
plete was your defeat."
" Well," said he, " you have found this a hard road
to travel, and no holiday work to meet the chivalry
of the South. I suppose that you are tired and sick
of the business, and all you wish is to get out of
this war with some show of honor?"
" No, sir, you were never more mistaken ; we can
lose ten armies and not exhaust our resources. We
have entered upon this contest because you attempted
to destroy the government which we love ; not be
cause we wish to conquer you, or gain one foot of
your lands ; we have enough — we covet nothing
that is yours, not even your ' institutions ; ' but we
cannot consent to see the country drift into anarchy
to please you. We must uphold the laws and insti
tutions we esteem sacred. You have forced this
war upon us. We have taken up arms most reluc
tantly, and we cannot lay them down until we see
you peacefully dwelling under our flag again."
"Then," said he, "you have a war for the next
century upon your hands. We never can go back
to the old government. Our dead would rise from
their graves and curse us, if we consented to such
dishonor. No, sir, never ! You may burn our cities,
ruin our estates, steal our negroes, and cover our
fields with the bones of our slain — but go back into
the Union with the hated Yankees, never ! "
An hundred voices most emphatically exclaimed,

CAPTAIN TURNER. 377
''never," and all these dark-browed children of pas
sion scowled in anger.
"We," continued the major, "can carry on this
war as long as you can. The South was never more
prepared than now, and our negroes never so loyal ;
the faithful creatures cannot be induced to forsake
us in our hour of need. Any hopes you may have
of assistance from them are utterly futile."
It required but a glance at the excited throng
which surrounded me to see that a single word would
produce the wildest storm of rage, in which more
than one unarmed prisoner might fall a victim to
their vindictive anger. Here, and on many subse
quent occasions, I learned to place a -low estimate on
the honor and magnanimity of Southern chivalry.
Who ever saw, in any of our cities, a prisoner from
the Confederacy surrounded by an excited mob,
waiting for one indiscreet word as the signal to tear
him to pieces ?
In the midst of this conversation, Captain Turner,
who was in command of all the prisons and their
guards, came to the depSt. The captain was a
young man, about twenty-five years of age, evidently
possessed of ability and energy. The expression of
his face was that of one who had been in a passion
ever since he was born. He trod the ground with
a short, fiery stamp, and looked at us with an ex
pression, which said: "Expect tears from stones,
but no pity from me." His indignation against
somebody was unbounded. His grey eyes flashed
fire. "Who sent you here? We have not a spot for
these miserable Avretches ; I wish the whole concern
32*

378 SCENES IN THE STREETS.
Was in  ." And waiting for no reply, he hissed
out innumerable oaths and maledictions.
What I saw at this time tm-ows additional light
upon a part of Dr. SAvinburne's report, " In refer
ence to the removal from Savage Station and other
hospitals to Richmond." (Page 6.)
Captain Turner left us with the hint that he might
send us back to Savage Station ; but in a few
moments Lieutenant Taylor appeared and ordered
all the men able to walk to come out of the cars,
and arrange themselves in line in the street. In a
short time five hundred sick and wounded soldiers
formed themselves into a broken, ragged column.
Some of the men were fainting from exhaustion,
but the dread of being abandoned, or lost from their
companions, stimulated them to move and follow.
Very soon these fell down, and had to be carried
from one halting place to another.
It was now the middle of July. The heat of the
day was such as to make the thinnest garment
oppressive to a feverish body. Many had cast away
their shirts and coats, and others their pants and
shoes, which, saturated with blood, and conse
quently loathsome, had become exceedingly uncom
fortable. The spectacle was most distressing — so
many wounded men in the streets of the Rebel
capital, pale, bleeding, and, above all, nearly naked.
Fortunately, Mr. Brunot and Mr. Reed had left
more than one hundred shirts, and I had in my
stores, received from the Sanitary Commission,
more than one hundred pairs of drawers. With
these we were able to cover many partially, who
otherwise would have reached Richmond in a state

SCENES IN THE STREETS. 379
bordering on nakedness. Certainly the appearance
of this wounded throng, starting on their march
for the prison on Corey street, Avas calculated to
have excited pity in the hardest heart. Many
were hopping on rude crutches ; others, with ampu
tated arms and shattered shoulders, moved as far as
possible from their staggering companions, and were
constantly pressed back into the mass by the bayonets
of the brutal guards. Several entirely blind men
were guided by the arms of the wounded, who leaned
on them for support. Others, confused and uncertain
about every step, groped and staggered like the
palsied. Here one wounded in the leg had thrown
away Ms torn and bloody pantaloons, and was limp
ing along with nothmg on his limbs but the crim
soned bandages. Another, wounded in the chest
and arm, had tM'ovm off his stiffened shirt, and Avith
all the upper portion of his body bare moved along
in the crowd leaning upon a less mjured companion.
There two compassionate nurses were bearing in
their arms one to whom suffering and loss of blood
gave the ghastliness of a corpse.
Such was the procession which left the dep6t,
and 'slowly moving round the canal, approached the
prison — No. 2, on Carey street. Here we stopped
and waited for orders, but none came. In the
meantime the sidewalks were lined with citizens.
But few pitied the sufferers : I thought they did not
dare to, for spies and informers were everywhere in
the crowd. Now and then a Mnd German woman
thrust out her hands, and gave to one who excited
her especial pity a little cake, and when commanded
by the guards to stand back and give nothing,

380 THE BENEVOLENT GERMAN.
answered with a charming naivete-, "Ich verstehe
kein Englisch." <u, .¦>
While we were halting before this prison the shade's
of evening began to fall over the city, and here and
there a dim gaslight attempted to illumine the
Avretched capital. In the meantime many of the
sick had fallen down on the sidewalks and in the
streets from sheer exhaustion, and dropping asleep,
were for a time unconscious of pain and misery.
While we waited, a German of fine appearance and
good manners approached me, and drawmg me into
the shadow of the prison, whispered in my ear: that
" he was a friend, and was anxious to do something
for the relief of our sufferers ; that all he had was
at our disposal." He said he had plenty of money;
and offered me his pocket book, saying that we
would need bread. He said when he looked upon
our wounded men he shed tears, and resolved that
he would risk his life for our relief. No words can
express how much I Avas affected by the kind words
and the generosity of this noble German. It was
the sunbeam suddenly lighting up the dark prison-
house. I thanked him, refused to take his money,
and begged him to be careful and to show no such
sympathy as would attract attention. In reply, he
cursed the confederacy, and hoped the whole con
cern might soon be in  . Certainly, I never
before, nor since, heard swearing that sounded so
appropriate; and the tears of gratitude, I hope,
blotted out the sin. He then intimated to me the
secret of the fact that the Germans were the only
persons who dared to show us any sympathy. The
most important and valuable workmen in their

THE BENEVOLENT GERMAN. 381
armories, arsenals, and ordnance foundries, were
Germans, and these women were their wives and
daughters. \ These Germans had been engaged in
manufacturing in the South before the rebellion,
and at no time had there been an opportunity for
removing their families, and necessity compelled
their working in their present employment. But
they were all most eagerly hoping for our success,
and looMng for our army. "And will Mr. McClellan
never come ? " I could not answer hopefully, but
told him that the tijne would most certainly come
when Richmond would be ours. He then told me
that the confederacy had suffered beyond our esti
mate in the recent battles ; that every house, hotel,
and ware-room, was a hospital ; that the city was in
the deepest gloom over their dead — some one gone
from every house ; that a few more such victories
would sweep away all the aristocracy ; that they
were without any of the luxuries, and almost the
necessities, of life ; that the inhabitants of the city
were under a reign of terror ; that General Winder,
the Provost Marshal, and Colonel Baxter, the Judge
Advocate, were the most cold-blooded and heartless
of men ; and that, after having enriched themselves
under the old government, they now took a malig
nant satisfaction in ruining every man who was sus
pected of any lingering regard for the Union. The
judgment he passed upon these worthies was con
firmed to me by subsequent events.
After remaining more than an hour before Prison
No. 2, we were ordered to remove to Prison No. 4,
on Main street. Toward this we marched as fast
as the nature of the case admitted, attended by an

S82 CAPTAIN TUTHILL.
immense throng of curious citizens. When we
reached this prison we were halted in the street, and
again more than half the men laid down in the dust
and fell asleep. In the office, or reception room, of
the prison, were three or four officers, who appeared
to have been selected for their non-acquaintance
with either mercy or charity. Prominent among
these was a captain of commissary, named Tuthill ;
he was a short, stout man of thirty-five years of '. age,
with black hair, round face, and a voice like a lion?s
growl. He made his appearance in the office, swear
ing like a Flemish trooper, and in a towering rage$
with the air of one feeling that language was too
poor to express his mighty emotions, he strode to
and fro, looMng for objects upon which to vent his
fury. He soon, however, began to work off his pas
sion by kicking in the sides of several empty Cracker
boxes, hurling the fragments against the sides of the
room, as though he expected the walls to totter. He
next kicked over all the old chairs in the room ¦with
an evidently damaging effect upon their few remain
ing legs. He now moved up to an old rusty stove,
which stood near the centre of the room, looMng as
if he would pitch this into the street, or hurl it
through the ceiling ; but, after a moment, satisfied
himself with covering it with indignant tobacco
juice. This was the more amusing, as it was evi
dent that much of it was merely good acting.
Tuthill was really not a bad-hearted man, nor un-
pitying, but he was obeying instructions, or imi
tating the meanness of Ms superior officers. Rich
mond Avas then full of prisoners, and many of them
might be able to handle a gun in a few days, and

SCENES IN THE PRISON. 383
their guards were few, and it was thought essential
for safety that the prisoners should be impressed
with a salutary dread of the ferocious qualities of
the Confederate officers. If they could succeed in
maMng us think they were not to be touched by
any sentiment of humanity, it would deliver them
from a thousand annoyances. Who would dare,
after this display, to approach Tuthill and tell him
that in four days he had had but one loaf of bread,
and an ounce of meat in a week?
In a few moments I was ordered to bring in themen,
four at a time. An officer stood at an oM dilapidated
desk, and, with the tragic air of a martyr, rolled up
Ms coat-sleeves, and took up a pen. Another stood
by his side, holdmg a broken tin lantern, in which
glimmered the feeble rays of a tallow candle ; an
other candle was stuck in the top of the stove, and,
softened by the heat of the room, leaned for support
against the stove-pipe. Thus illuminated, the offi
cer announced the duties of the evening.
Firstwas broughtbefore them a shirtless Union sol
dier, Avith an amputated arm. In a stern, angry man
ner, the officers asked Ms name, his regiment, his
corps,! xleinandmg if he had any Confederate money,
any fire-arms; when satisfied that he had none of
these, Ms knapsack was opened, and all his little sou
venirs of home, Avife or children, which the soldier had
carried with Mm m many battles, and borne through
weary marches, were thrown upon the floor, with
letters, papers, Testament, and hymn-book. The
knapsack was taken from him and tMoAvn aside,
and he commenced to remove the coat, blanket,
daguerreotypes, etc., etc., which were lying at his

384 SCENES IN THE PRISON.
feet. The look of the poor fellow was that of the
utmost amazement. What was he to do with those
things, and how could he carry them with one arm?
His knapsack was of no use. Would not they give
it to him? "No," with a bitter oath ; "take away
your miserable rags." And the poor fellow was
compelled to stoop doAvu and gather up, with my
assistance, the articles strewn on the floor. Some
were bound up in a torn handkerchief, some in the
pockets of his pants, and such as he could, he car
ried under his only remaming arm.
The next one brought forward was. a soldier with
a wound in his head, from the effects of which he
was confused in utterance, and had lost all remem
brance of his home or his regiment ; the fury and
swearing of the officers served only to confuse Mm
the more, and drive away his few remaining ideas,
and he began to think that he was before a criminal
court, charged with some great crime, and his face
and body became convulsed, as if in perfect despair.
One after another were brought forward and ex
amined, their knapsacks opened, and all the soldiers'
valuables dashed out upon the floor. There were
many most painful scenes during the collection of
these articles, and more than one poor sufferer fell
fainting on the floor during the effort.
The prison was one of the large tobacco ware
houses, and was three stories in height. The rooms
were large halls, poorly ventilated, and disgustingly
filthy. The dust and tobacco-juice of years had
accumulated in ridges and hillocks on the floor.
From the same cause every step of the stairs was
as uneven as if covered with pebbles. The odor of

HmaG *IIE KNAPSACKS OP OTTtt WOUiVDED-MAIN STREET PUTSON, RICII.MOXB.

Ciap. Je-JL-ZTI,

SCENES IN THE PRISON. 885
these apartments was indescribably foul ; they had
been filled Avith prisoners, who had been removed
but a few hours, and had left behind them all the
offal of mortal maladies, weaknesses, and wounds.
There had been no sweeping, nor cleansing. Into
these dismal rooms our poor men were pushed, and
compelled to drink in an air, the first breath of
which caused me to shudder. Many of the sick and
wounded were without blankets, and were obliged
to lie on the bare floor, as nothing was provided
them by the Confederate Government.
We had received no food since breakfast, and to
my request for bread for the fainting men, the reply
was, "that they had none; that if McClellan had
not burnt hundreds of barrels of flour, and thousands
of boxes of crackers, they might have had some
thing to give us, but now they had not enough for
their own men."
During the time occupied in taMng down the
names and regiments of the prisoners, I asked per
mission of Captain Tuthill to go down to the dep6t
and look after the men we had left in the cars una
ble to walk. He answered me Mndly, and obtained
a pass. I went out into the street to find my way,
in the darkness of the night, to the depot. But
after I had gone a few steps, I was joined by my
German friend, who had been lingering in the
shadow of a building near the prison. He insisted
upon going with me, telling me the guard would
certainly shoot me otherwise, and leading me around
by Ms house, took especial pains to impress its lo
cality upon me, saying, " If you ever want a break-
or dinner come here. If you want money, or
33

386 SCENES IN THE PRISON.
need bread, so long as I have a cent or a crumb- you
shall have it." He then accompanied me to the de
pot, and was of the greatest assistance in placing the
remaining Avounded in the ambulances which had
been sent, driven by negro drivers. When this was
done, he walked with me until near the Main Street
Prison, and then left me, again offering his pocket-
book, and urging me to come to him the next day. I
never compromised this generous man by calling at
his house, for I felt assured he was already under
surveillance, and any open act of kindness to us
Avould have led to his imprisonment; but I have
marked the locality of his house, and daguerreo
typed on my mind his features, and I hope I may
yet have an opportunity of thanking him, in Rich
mond, for Ms generous sympathy and fearless proffer
of aid, when we were poor prisoners. Upon my
return to the prison, after aiding those who were
yet to be examined, I secured a candle, and went
from room to room. The despondency and misery
of the men had now reached their acme. Many of
them said that they wished to die, and prayed that
their sorrows might end with that night. Stretched
upon the naked floor, or leaning against a brick
Avail, Avithout food and medical assistance, their suf
ferings Avere extreme, and rendered them spiritless
and hopeless. But to all such I endeavored to
speak words of cheer and encouragement, remind
ing them of the many to whom their lives Avere most
precious, and encouragmg them, for their sakes,
to make a great effort to live. Doctor Fox had,
during the evening and night, been occupied Avith

LIBBY PRISON. 387
dressing and bandaging the wounds of those whom
he found the greatest sufferers.
About midnight we Avere informed that our quar
ters were to be in "Libby Prison," and the doctor
and myself were marched under guard to that place.
When we reached it we were taken into the office,
and our trunks and baggage examined. Captain
TutMll, and a young man named Ross, Avere ap
pointed to search us, and confiscate any contraband
articles which might be found in our possession. I
had brought with me a supply of medicines, and
some sanitary stores. I had eight bottles of quinine,
and these were taken from me, together with all the
bandages I still retained ; but they left all my per
sonal property, except papers, which they took for
examination. I had Avith me several packages of
the "Christian Banner," published by the American
Tract Society, Boston. These they examined, and
told me they were familiar Avith the paper, for seve
ral cot ies had been brought into Richmond, which
had bten given to their officers and men in different
places. They expressed themselves as greatly pleased
with it, and told me I might give away as many as
Iplexsed; that such papers could do no harm, but
good. And such tracts and books as I had with
me (obtained from the Rev. Mr. Alvord for the sick
in the hospitals) I was permitted to distribute with
out restraint. These officers were very obliging Avith
mc, and Captain Tuthill took occasion to say to me,
that much of the violence I had seen on his part was
assumed ; that he had to obey orders ; but he assured
me that anything he could do for me would afford
h.m the greatest pleasure. Subsequently, I found

388 DR. FOX.
Captain Tuthill to be the most humane Confederate
officer with Avhom I came in contact in Richmond.
While in this office, my friend Doctor Fox was
placed under arrest. He had by his side a canteen
of whisky, which he carried with him for the bene
fit of patients. This canteen was demanded, when
the doctor Avalked to the door, took out the stopper,
and commenced emptying the Avhisky into the street.
He Avas immediately arrested for " contempt," and
threatened with the bayonets of the guard. For a
few moments there Avas a scene of the greatest ex
citement, which ended in restoring to the doctor his
empty canteen, and permitting him to remove his
blanket, for his night's rest, to another room of the
building. We Avere at length conducted to what is called
the "East Room." This Avas dimly lighted, and here
and there was the flickering candle of a nurse over
some pale, suffering face. Libby Prison covers an
entire square. It fronts, I think, three hundred and
seventy feet on Carey Street, and is one hundred and
tAventy feet deep. It is four stories high. The base
ment rooms were used for a dead-house, kitchens,
bake, and wash-rooms. The rooms occupied by the
prisoners Avere great halls, ninety feet wide, and ex
tending the depth of the building. It was possible
to ventilate, to some extent, the rooms with side
AvindoAvs looking to the east and the west ; but the
central halls could not receive a breath of air, except
through the north and south windows, and therefore
were hot and foul to a degree entirely incomprehen
sible to one who has not been so unfortunate as to
have been an inmate of that loathsome dungeon. I

SUFFERINGS OF THE AVOUNDED. 389
think it one of the things beyond the region of pos
sibility, that Southern prisoners in our hands should
be consigned, even for a day, to quarters so incon
ceivably vile. In the lower rooms, the dead were
carried, remaining uncoffined for days; and from
thence ascended, through all the rooms, the pestilen
tial breath of a charnel-house. In every crack and
crevice millions of vermin crawled and SAvarmed.
The floors and walls had not been cleansed for years.
To -consign prisoners to these rooms was to sign
their death-warrant — crowded together, every inch
of the floors coArered, every breath they inhaled
loaded Avith the poison of fever and the exhalation
ef wounds, how could they live? In the centre
of these rooms all the men were gasping and crying
out, " I shall die, unless I have a little fresh air."
And yet, with all their boasted civilization and hu
manity, the Confederate Government continues to
immerse thousands of men in living tombs.
It should not, therefore, be a matter of wonder
that one-third of the men consigned to those cham
bers of death never came forth but to be coffined —
and all bore with them for years, the consequences
of breathing an air so pestilential. The treatment
which our prisoners here received at the hands of
the Rebel Government displays, more than anything
else, how completely it has thrown itself out of the
pale of Christian civilization.
Was there no lumber in Richmond, out of which
buildings might have been made, as was done in
Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, etc., etc., for
the accommodation of the sick and the wounded ?
Were there no more houses that could be thrown
33 *

390 ILL-ADVISED POLICY.
open for such purposes; ? Were there no trees in the
forest that might have been cut and split, and houses
erected on open grounds, where the panting and suf
fering prisoners, if they Avere denied food, might at
least enjoy the air of heaven ?
If, after the first battles, they were forced to con
sign hundreds to those dungeons, for Avant of suita
ble places for their confinement, was there any ne
cessity for continuing a cruelty absolutely infernal
and Satanic ? Possibly the Confederate Govern
ment thought, in this manner, to make unendurable
to us the continuance of a Avar, so fatal to the men
who fell into their hands. But there never was a
policy more ill-advised; for every man who has
passed through the tribulations of the Richmond
prisons, and beheld his companions perish from
want and confinement, bears ever in his heart a
thirst for revenge, which seeks gratification in the
destruction of the city where he suffered such indig
nities and miseries.

ADJUTANT GAITHER. 391

CHAPTER XXIV.
Night Scene and Conversation in Libby Prison — Nolan and his
Song — Scene at the Depot, July 16th — Feeding the Hungry —
German Charity.
Very soon after entering the officers' room, I was
addressed, by many familiar voices, and had the
gratification of meeting some whom I feared I should
never see again. Amongst this number was Lieu
tenant-colonel Mclntire, Captain Bagaler, Captain
Demirey, Captain Reed, Lieutenant Smith, of the
3d Michigan, Captain Adams, etc. AIJ^ these had
rather improved since I left them in the hospitals
on the battle-fields. Of these I made inquiries for
other wounded officers and soldiers, and learned that
many of them were dead.
"And Adjutant Gaither ? "
" Oh, he still lives, and lies on that cot."
I was surprised, and with glad eagerness advanced
to Ms bed : he Avas awake.
"Yes, my friend," said he, "I am still here, and,
thank God, better. I breathe with more ease, and
if I cannot live, I am grateful for this relief."
He spoke with ease; his cheeks were slightly
tinged with hectic fever, and his face was beautifully
placid and radiant. He told me he had suffered much
in his removal, but had been most kindly nursed by

392 NIGHT SCENE IN LIBBY PRISON.
a NeAv England soldier, who was then standing on
' the other side ofthe cot fanning him. He said this
man had watched him, and in every possible way
ministered to his relief, with more than the self-
denial and love of a brother. He said he was glad
to tell me that all the fear of death was gone, and
all the conflict of the first days of suffering was
ended ; and now, like a little child, he was resting on
the bosom of his Sa-viour, and felt assured that Avhat
ever fate awaited him, " it was well." While I was
yet talking with him, a nurse approached me and
said a soldier in one of the other rooms, who was
thought to be dying, wished to see me. I followed
his light, but stopped a moment by the side of the
cot where William Reed, son of Captain Reed, was
breathing his last; and then passing on by the cots
where were lying Lieutenant-colonel Woodward,
Dr. Donnelly, Dr. Skelton, and Colonel Dodger I
stopped a moment to speak with each, and following
the candle of the nurse ascended the stairs, when
Ave stood in the second story hall. The dim lights
burning here and there revealed a scene never to be
forgotten — there were no cots nor beds, but the
bare and naked floor was covered with a ghastly
multitude lying, leaning against the posts and walls,
standing, reclining on one arm, and in all possible"
positions that could be assumed by sufferers. We
ascended the second stairway, and stood in a similar
room, and looked over a throng, where the features
of misery were only a little varied. Through a door
which had been cut in the brick wall Ave passed into
a similar hall, likewise covered with a great com-i
pany of groaning and suffermg men ; through another

NIGHT SCENE IN LIBBY PRISON. 393
such, and again another, we passed until we came to
the third story room of the western halls. Here we
stepped over one after another, and carefully avoided
the .amputated limb, from which the imploring ges
tures ofthe sleepless sufferer warned us. We stopped
for a moment to speak AA'ith a young man whose
face, pale as marble, and his eye bright as a star, told
us that "many of his nights were wakeful, and in
this place all his life came back to him ; and it was
strange, he knew it must be mere illusion, but he
heard at times the church-bells of his native village,
and sometimes heard the congregation sing, at other
times the tones of the organ, and stranger than all
he several times heard his father and mother call
Mm as when he was a child." Poor felloAv, that
bright eye was soon dim, and that throbbing brain
quiet forever. We at length came to the place
where two or tMee benevolent nurses were holding
up m their arms the dying soldier that had sent for
me. He had seen me at some of the hospitals on
the field, and Avished me to assure him that Jesus
Christ would receive a sinner such as he felt himself
to be ; he Avished to tell me of some sins that were
now lying very heavily on his heart, and to know if
even these could be forgiven, and to pray for him
before he died. While I talked with him, many of
the wounded lying near dragged themselves closer
that they might hear — many of those, whose eveiy
breath was a moan, listened in quiet to the words of
mercy. While talking and praying with this man,
I heard, coming up from a remote corner of the
great room, the voice of one who was pouring forth,
ia the richest and tenderest tones, the words of hope

394 NOLAN, THE SINGER.
and peace. I felt certain I had heard that voice
before, and anxious to see one who, at the midnight
hour, was filling the prison with his song" of praise,
I threaded my way through the throng, and came
to his side. It was Nolan, the wounded soldier
whom I had first seen lying on the floor of the
Brackett House.
"Why, my friend," said he, "you come to us as
strangely here as you did at Glendale ; some of us
whom you saw there have gone up, others are still
here, and like the angels returning to the gates of
heaven, we try to send our voices before us, for I
am not the only singer here; at times many join.
I find, too, that after our first sleep all are restless
and miserable for a time, and nothing quiets us like
one of the hymns we sing in our churches at home ;
and many a time these songs have been like a spring
in the desert. Often, during the day and night,
Warburton, Mecum, Coursan, Jeffries, or some other
of the poor fellows who lie around, will be so pained
that they will think they must die, and will ask me
to sing, and one after another will join, and then
away off in other parts of the room one and another
will take it up, until sometimes a hundred or more
will try to murmur the Avords of a dear old hymn';:
and, doctor, it fills the room with light, and many
of us are lifted up into the bosom of our Lord> and
al] feel better. Oh, it is a great thing to be able to
say, ' I know that my Redeemer liveth! ' "
True to himself and his religion, this noble soldier
was forgetful of himself, singing and talking to re
lieve and comfort those around him who were greater
sufferers. His whole nature Avas joyous and cheer-

NOLAN, THE SINGER. 395
M, and no one would have known, by Ms looks or
words, that he was one who had endured a tre
mendous shock. His countenance was peaceful, and
I could see by the light of his eye, the compression
of Ms lips, and the tMobbing about his temples,
that he suffered acute pain ; but he had resolved to
bear all uncomplainingly, and to sustain those who
were despondent and dying. Though he could
not move from one to another, and with gentle
hands and words relieve those who were suffering,
his voice could reach many of them, and the Avords
of his song might drop on them like blessed balm
from heaven. Such was the influence, that many
an one wept as he was reminded of other days
and the dear voices of his own fireside ; many a
darkened heart was enlightened, and the tempest-
tossed and fearful were aided to trust and hope.
Noble man ! have not many appeared in heaven to
thank him for the light he shed OA~er the darkest
nights, and the relief he imparted in their days of
misery ? Near to Nolan wTas lying the young man
wounded with the six-pound cannon-ball : he was
cheerful, and had hopes of recovery. In this por
tion of the room were many of the worst cases of
amputation in the prison : they told me, that in the
open houses, barns, and sheds, where they had been
for many days before removal, they had improved,
but during the week that followed nearly all these
died. If they had not been compelled to breathe
an air so loaded with foul exhalations many of them
might have recovered.
-On the folloAving morning I was permitted to visit
the Main Street Prison. This led me, to some extent.

396 PRICES IN RICHMOND.
through other streets. There was little or no busi
ness transacted in the city ; almost every large house
Avas a hospital, and few of the stores and shops were
open. There did not appear to be as many goods
in Richmond as would be required, in ordinary cir
cumstances, for a village of one thousand inhabitants.
Tl^e prices to be paid for all articles of food Avere
fabulous, and making the condition of the poor de
plorable. Beef was 50 cents per pound, ham 75
cents, sugar 80 cents, salt 25 cents per pint, coffee
$2.50, and tea $10 to $12 per pound. All articles
of clothing were ou a scale equally extravagant ; a
pair of ladies' shoes were $10 to $12, a pair of gents'
boots $50 to $75, a wool hat $30 to $40. At this
time gold Avas at $3.00 premium, but since those
days the value of gold has tripled, and consequently
the price of everything in the market, and all the
necessities of life, have steadily advanced, thus in
flicting on all classes the sufferings of want and
poverty. The citizens whom I met in the streets
Avere morose and gloomy; .there appeared to be little
of that hopefulness I had seen in their army ; here
all were careworn, haggard, and desponding. During
the morning of July 14th, about three hundred and
fifty of the five hundred prisoners in the Main Street
Prison were ordered to prepare for a removal to
Belle Island, in James River ; the distance was about
three miles.
The wounded had been iioav without food for
twenty-four hours; many, when they came forth
into the streets, fell doAvn from exhaustion and the
weakness caused by hunger. I Avent to Tuthill,- and
begged bread for those men ; but he told me that

THE GERMAN WOMEN. 397
an order had come in early that morning from some
newly-arrived regiments for bread, and this, together
with the demand for their own hospitals, had ex
hausted the supply to the last loaf; that the goA--
ernment had no bakeries, but the daily supply was
obtamed by requisition upon the bakers of the city ;
and that nothing could be obtained from these for
several hours.
Again the Mnd German women came to our re
lief, and passing along the line with baskets, they
here and there slipped a cake. There Avere positive
orders against such charity. But, as before, they
were fearless of the bayonets of the guard, and to
their commands, "Stand back!" "Stand back!"
replied, "IchverstehekemEnglisch." After remain
ing in the burning sun in the open streets for hours,
at length the command came to march, and the
people of Richmond were again gratified by the
spectacle of a weary and staggering, crippled and
fainting throng of "wounded Yankees." Many of
them fell down before they reached the Island, and
were unable to move another step ; others fainted,
and remained insensible for hours. No assistance
was tendered to these in the more aristocratic streets.
The German women did not dare to follow here, and
not even a cup of cold water was offered ; few, in
deed, spoke words of insult, but all passed them by
unpitied. When they reached the Island their
condition was much better than Avhen in the prison,
for they had some liberty of action ; and though
always poorly and capriciously supplied with food,
they had the open air, and the shade trees.
On Wednesday, the 16th of July, about ten o'clock,
34

398 KINDNESS OF A REBEL OFFICER.
A. M., a Confederate officer, whose name I never
kneAAr, sent for me into Libby Prison, and Avished to
speak to me for a moment. When I came out into
the street to see him, he told me that there Avere
lying at the York River depot four hundred Avounded
soldiers, Avho had been brought up from Savage Sta
tion on the previous day, and were Avithout food,
medicines, and nurses ; that he had come to me be
cause, though he pitied them, he was powerless to
help, for no appeal from him would be listened to.
I thanked him, and told him Ave would never forget
his kindness and donation, and that he Avould yet
reap a reAvard for going out of his Avay to be
friend us.
I then Avent to Captain Turner, and told him of
the condition of the Union soldiers lymg at the 'de
pot, and that they had not tasted bread for many
hours, and were in the greatest distress. He said
he had no bread, nor could he obtain any. I must
look to Captain Tuthill. I asked him, if I should ob
tain the order from Captain Tuthill for bread, Avould
he sign it ? Certainly, he said. I then sought Tut
hill, and found Mm in the basement rooms, superin
tending the cuttmg up of the soup-meat for the
prisoners. The meat was strewed about on a floor
covered with every kind of nastiness ; a few feet be
yond, in the same room, were lying several dead
bodies ; there were some on the floor and others on
stretchers; a short distance further, were four or
more men preparing rude coffins, those of the offi
cers being painted brown. In one part of tbis room
was a large furnace, and in tMs a number of iron
vessels or kettles ; in these were boiling tho bloody,

GERMAN WOMEN GIVING NOURISHMENT TO OUR WOUNDED AT THE DEPOT, RICHMOND. Chap. XXIV.

APPLICATION FOR BREAD. 399
saturated cloths, Avhich had been removed from
wounds, and were in demand for re-dressing. Li
this room were fifteen most savage-looking Avretches,
who were the cooks for Libby Prison. While hero
the cloths were taken out of the vessels, the dirty
water draAvn off, and fresh poured in, and Avithout
any more ceremony the meat was thrown in for the
soup for dinner.
In a few moments Tuthill was disengaged, and I
immediately approached, and told him of the four
hundred prisoners lymg at the depot, and their
wants. He drew me away some distance from the
crowd of servants and loungers, and said, "go to
Turner and get an order from him for bread, and I will
fill it." I went back to Captain Turner's office, and
after some delay and rebuffs obtained the car of the
captam for a moment, and requested an order from
him for bread, " regrettmg much that the necessity
of the case compelled me to trouble him." He
stormed and swore, stamped on the floor, but A^ery
gently for him, and asked me " if Tuthill had sent
me back ? " I replied that the commissary felt sure
that an order from Captain Turner was all that Avas
necessary for securing the bread. He growled some
thing about skulMngoutof responsibility, and wrote
off the order. This, without a moment's delay, I
placed in the hands of Tuthill. There were about
him a large number of hungry Confederate soldiers ;
some ragged officers of regiments ; all on half ra
tions. When he glanced his eye over it, he assumed
the manner of the utmost astonishment and indig
nation. "Had he not enough to do to find food for
their own hospitals ? Could loaA^es be rained from

400 FEEDING THE HUNGRY.
heaven 'r He would like to know where this bread
was to come from ? People that were such fools as
to burn up their own flour and crackers should be
left to starve ? Wounded and sick men should not
be as hungry as wolves ? " Holding the paper be
tween his forefinger and thumb, looking as if the
mere touching it gave him all the sensations one
Avould be supposed to have in carrying a dead snake ;
he strode up to the desk, and dashed off orders on
several bakers for bread. The Confederates around
looked at one another and Avinked. Some evidently
pitied me, and hinted that the commissary was too
rough ; one swore that " he did not believe in rob
bing Peter to pay Paul, especially if Paul Avas a great
rascal." But Tuthill I perfectly understood, and
his fine acting was stagely and amusing. In a few
moments, tAvo hundred and fifty loaves were brought
in and thrown down in the dead-room. I had
brought doAAm from the prison, and became respon
sible for their return, five or six nurses, who were
to convey the bread to the depot. One of these,
Sergeant Temple, bore the pot of butter, which had
been left in the store of Mr. Brunot. This I had
brought up to Richmond, to be dispensed at the
right hour. Robert Spear and Steward Luke bore
some cans of preserves and fruits. We carried tho
bread in sheets, which I had borrowed from the
store-room. When we came to the depot, I stepped on the
platform into the midst of the throng. The cry was
raised, "bread!" "bread!" and many rushed tow
ard me with all the eagerness of maniacs. There
was a Avild tumult for a moment. But this was soon

DR. CHURCHILL. 401
stilled by my assuring them that if they were pa
tient, we would give each one-half a loaf and a little
good butter on each piece. We then divided the
loaves, and all those who were able to Avalk came
forward and were supplied ; but there was a multi
tude to whom we had to bear it. ,
The wounded and sick were lying under open
sheds, on the wet ground, for it Avas near the canal ;
many were on the platform, some in the street, and
others in secluded places under the shadow of Avails
and boards. The heat of the atmosphere was in
tense and withering beyond all that I have felt in
Missouri and Illinois, or even in Africa ; the ther
mometer was standing at 103° in the shade. Many
of these poor sufferers had endured until the nerve
of sensation was palsied, and sank into that dreamy,
languid repose that is the harbinger of death. There
were striMng illustrations of how much men can
bear and live.
I found with these men a surgeon, Dr. Churchill,
who had the appearance of one in the last stage of
exhaustion. He had suffered intensely from fever,
weariness, and the presence of a wretchedness he
could not relieve. He told me he had applied in
vain for bread, and that no one would listen to him,
and that he had returned to this scene of Avant and
misery, exclaiming : "Let me die; it is better that 1
should die than live."
In my passing from one group to another, I came
to a wounded soldier seated on the platform, and
leaning Avith Ms back against the cars. When I
came close to him, and asked him if he could take
anything, he said he could not, for he Avas very ill,
"A*

102 THE DYING SOLDIER.
but asked me " to examine his wound, and tell if it
Avas possible for him to live." The ball had passed
through the right lung, and gone out near the spine.
He Avas breathing Avith great rapidity, but spoke
with case. I felt his pulse, and discovered that life
was nearly gone. I said : " I am afraid you cannot
live. Are you ready to die ? have you made any
preparation?" "Oh!" said he, "I have been praying to God to
send some one to talk with me and pray for me ; and
now you, good sir, tell me what I must believe, Avhat
I ought to say to God, and what I must do to die
safely." With an interest I had rarely experienced in my
life — for I felt certain that this man would be soon
standing before the Infinite — I sat doAvn by him,
and spoke of the character and promises of the
blessed Redeemer, and that the greatest of sufferers
would most surely pity and help a dying soldier ;
that, for just such as he was, God had made the pro
vision of the Gospel ; that his sins could be forgiven
for the sake of Him Avho tasted death for us all.
While I spoke to him many gathered around, and
some wounded men dragged themselves closer, or
Avere helped forward, that they might hear. The
dying man then told me that he had some years
before became connected with a church in or near
Philadelphia ; that he had never forgotten the vows
then made, and during his soldier life had endeavored
to act as a Christian ; but now, when he came so near
to death, he wished to knoAv, with absolute assurance,
that our Lord would remember him. He felt he was a
sinner, and needed the help of One mighty to pave.

THE DYING SOLDIER. 403
"Now," said he, "I feel what a great thing it is
to die; one can never come back to try and do
better, but I must meet again all the past and bo
judged ; I must see God and stand before him, and
the holy angels about me. Oh, I need some great
friend in heaven ! "
I had never seen one so near to death talk with
such ease and emotion. I repeated the first Avords
of the 23d Psalm, and he joined with me, changing
it, however, into the Scotch version :
" The Lord's my shepherd ; I'll not want.
He makes me down to lie.
In pastures green He leadeth me,
The quiet waters by.
Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale,
Yet will I fear none ill;
For Thou art with me; and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still."
The words of the Psalm lifted the vail off sacred
memories, and with a face wet with tears, and a
voice tremulous with emotion, he told me of his
mother; that she was a- widow, and he her only
child ; that he Avas greatly indebted to her, for she
had been a faithful, good mother, and had taught
him to pray and love his Bible ; that he feared his
death would be a sore blow to her, for he was her
earthly hope and staff; that all the time he was in
the army he had thought of the great pleasure of
returning home, and living again with his mother.
And there Avas another friend that was very dear to
him and very good, but all that was gone now. They
would find him in heaven.
" My poor mother ! this will be a very heavy blow
to her, for I was her only bairn. She had a great

404 THE DYING SOLDIER.
struggle before she could consent to give, me up. I
had told her many times that I Avould never go to
the Avar without her consent, but felt it my duty to
help my country, and could look no man in the face
if I stayed at home. To my many and earnest
pleadings she at length yielded ; and now I am
afraid she never will forgive herself for alloAving me
to come. But Got! has ordered it all ; I had come
to my time. It is all right. But will you, good sir,
write to my mother — she is a member of a church
in Philadelphia — and I will die happier if you tell
me what you will write to her, and let her know
that I thought of her and loved her to the last." I
assured him that I would write to his mother. He
then gave me her name : — " Mrs. Isabella Virtue,
No. 1635 Moravian Street, Philadelphia.'"
I prayed with him, and endeavored to lift him
up and place him in the bosom of Him who bore
our sicknesses and carried our sorrows. No sooner
Avas the prayer ended than many spoke to me, and
urged me to come with them and see sufferers that
were in great pain, or near to death. To many, and
indeed all of these, I went, and in the course of an
hour returned, and the soldier was dead; he was
still lying on the platform, and his face was as peace
ful as that of a little child. Those near him told me
that he gently fell asleep. There was no terror in
spired by the presence of the dead ; but many sat
near him, and hands touched him, without a shud
der. I wrote to his mother, and subsequently saw
her, and met one who is truly a daughter of grief,
but to whom it gave unspeakable comfort, that she
knew where her son had died, and that he had re-

A NEAV ENGLAND SOLDIER. 405
memberedher, andfellso calmly to sleep.* How great
is the debt of gratitude we owe such a mother ! She
gave her all, and now sits a lonely, desolate weeper;
her sun has gone down Avhile it is yet noon-day.
Alongside of Thomas Virtue was lying a New
England soldier, very badly Avounded; he was in
great pain; he called me to him. "Sir," said he,
"I perceive that you are a clergyman; I am very
glad you have found us ; I have no words to tell you
what I have suffered, but my anxiety of mind has
greatly mereased my misery ; I was afraid that I
should die, and no one would be able to tell my wife
and family where." He then told me that he was
from Bedford, Massachusetts; that he had, at the
commencement of the war, been settled as a farmer
in Ms native toAvn, and was doing Avell, and Provi
dence smiled on Mm in everything ; that his wife
Avas one of the best of Avomen; and God had
given Min tMee children, and they were dearer to
him than life ; his home was all that he could have
desired, and more than he ever expected to find on
earth. The strength of the ties that bound Mm to
his family caused him to hesitate many days before
he could seriously consider his duty ; but at length
he began to feel that the interests at stake were more
valuable than his life, and he resolved that, with the
consent of his wife, he would enlist. After much
hesitation, and many tears, she at length yielded to
the conviction that it was their duty to their country
and children to make the sacrifice. The sorrow and
* Mrs. Virtue is a member of the church of the Rev. Dr. J.
Dales, of Philadelphia, one of the most comforting and commie-
Berate of Christian ministers.

406 A NEW ENGLAND SOLDIER.
anguish he felt in leaving never could be told, but
he had borne it because he knew he Avas doing right.
During all the weaiy months of absence, the hope
of return sustained him, and he counted the days
until he should be agam at home. But when he
was wounded in the battle of Glendale, and gave up
for many days the hope of living, the sorrow he felt
at the thought of leaving forever those whom he
loved, was a greater suffering than his wounds. But
during those long, painful, and wretched days, God
had mercifully upheld him ; and it added much to
his distress, that he could find no one whom he
knew, and would listen with sympathy to his story.
It had been his great anxiety to find some one who
would promise him that his wife should be made
acquainted Avith the facts in the history of his last
days. I assured him that I would consider it a
sacred duty to write to his wife, and whatever his
fate, I would do so. But I had hope that*he might
live ; his arm was, indeed, very badly wounded and
broken, but his constitution was good, and I thought
he might live, and believed he would. With many
tears he thanked me for the words of comfort, and
said that, since I had promised to write to his family,
he felt relieved, and if he never should meet me on
earth, that in heaven he would thank me. I soon
found Dr. Churchill, and interested him in the case.
He examined the arm, washed it, removed the thou
sand larvte, and applied wet bandages ; and in the
course of a few moments Ave had the satisfaction of
seeing a faint smile of hope gleam on the face ofthe
soldier, and when I bade him farewell in the even
ing he Avas tranquil, resigned, and even hopeful. I

LETTER FROM ALVAH COTTON. 407
never saw Mr. Cotton again ; that evening he, with
all lying at the dep6t, were taken back to Savage
Station. At the battle of Bull Run I lost all the papers
and memoranda I had brought from Richmond, and
Avas not able to recall the name of the toAvn and
regiment of my friend, but subsequently, when I
recovered my lost portfolio, I immediately wrote to
Mrs. Cotton, fearing that she was a Avidow, and
that I would be the first to make known to her the
certainty of her great misfortune ; but rarely have I
met Avith anything in my life that gave me greater
satisfaction than the receipt of the folloAving letter :
" Boston, February, 1863.
"Dr.'.rSir: — It is with pleasure that I attempt
to answer your Mnd letter, which reached us a few
days ago. I have thought of you many times, and
wondered if you were in the land of the living. I
was happy to learn you was released as a prisoner, and
are agam Avith your regiment. God has seen fit, in His
great goodness, to spare my life, and I am now en
joying a good degree of health. Could I see you,
I would like to tell you all I passed through after I
saw you ; but time will not permit. After I saw you
at Richmond I was taken to our boats on the James
River. The next Saturday, I think, when I got to
Fortress Monroe, I was taken to a hospital there ; I
then telegraphed to my wife, and she came to me
there; we were then sent to New York, Avhere my
left arm was amputated ; I then remained there until
I received my discharge from the service, which was
received the 14th of November. I was very weak,

408 LETTER FROM ALVAH COTTON.
and the doctors thought, for a long time, my case was
a very doubtful one ; but the great Physician of the
soul and body healed me. Thanks be to His name.
What could I have done, had I not had that Anchor
to cling to.
" After I saw and talked with you I felt a great
relief, for I thought my dear friends would then
know something about me, if I should die. Had I
died there, your letter would have been the first in
telligence received concerning me. I thank you for
your kindness, and hope and pray that you may be
shielded from every danger, and see a rich reward
for your labors. I am now a messenger in the State
House, in this city. I live in Charlestown, Cottage
street, No. 14. Should you ever visit the city, I
would be very happy to have you call. My wife
wishes to express her thanks to you for the great
kindness done her. Hoping you may long live to
be useful, and that I may meet you on the right hand
of our blessed Lord,
"I remain your affectionate friend,
"Alvah Cotton,
" (Formerly of the 22d Regiment Mass. Volunteers,
"Company F, Captain Thompson.)
" The Rev. Dr. Marks,
" Chaplain 63d Reg't Pa. Vols."
In a few moments after we reached the depot, an
officer arrived with the order that all the wounded
men lying m the house should be taken out, and
the building locked. There were no goods in it,
not even empty boxes and barrels. Into the rooms
of this structure had been borne many of the worst

SERGEANT BRACKEN. 409
cases of amputation and sickness. In the house,
.though lying on the hard floor, they Avere protected
from the burning sun, the rain-storms, and the damp
ground. To order them out then was an act of
malignant cruelty, for not an inch of the building-
was demanded for the purposes of trade. It was in
A~ain that Dr. Churchill and myself remonstrated;
the order was positive. " The company Avished the
-building vacated." We had to lift and bear doAvn
stairs, at the cost of untold suffering, the men to
whom the least jar gave a pang of agony, and some
poor fellows were carried out in their last moments
to the open street to die.
In passing from one to another, I found lying
alongside of a train of box-cars a soldier, over whose
face was gathered his overcoat. He was so motion
less that I stooped down and lifted the covering,
supposmg the man was dead ; but he was alive, and
one whom I had often seen and ministered to at
Savage Station. I spoke to him.
"Is it possible this is you, Sergeant Bracken, and
still alive ? "
"Yes," said he, "and I cannot express my grati
tude to God that you have found me. Oh, how
sweet, in a place like this, is the Aroice of a friend ! "
This young man I had first seen in a tent at
Savage Station. He vras very badly wounded in
the face, the shoulder, and thigh ; the last was the
most painful, being a compound fracture, but no
¦ one would have known, from his voice, that he was
fatally injured. But he spoke with the manly clear
ness and force of a soldier on duty. At my first
interview he gave me a very intelligent and graphic
35

410 SERGEANT BRACKEN.
account of the battle of Mechanicsville, and spoke
in very high terms of the courage and military pre
science of General Meade, and predicted for him a
bright future. He then said to me that he had no
expectation of recovery ; that he knew his injuries
were of a character to forbid hope ; but he was
not afraid to die ; for years he believed his peace
had been made with God, and now he knew in
whom he had trusted. That, as he spent many
hours entirely alone, he reviewed the past and
looked into the future ; that, in the review, he had
many things for which to be very thankful. God
had given him the best of parents; he had been
brought up by them to revere God, and to trust in
the Redeemer, and their affection had thrown over
his life a happiness greater than many.
There had been given him, moreover, the most
affectionate of brothers and sisters ; and he wished,
if I ever saw them, to say to them that the memory
of their affection was always a well spring; and
that, during his absence in the army, he had looked
forward with the greatest desire to the time when
he should return to them again, never to be parted ;
that there was no society in which he had such
pleasure as their's. And now, as that hope Avas
gone, he wished me to tell them that in death he
remembered them all with a deeper love than he
had ever known before ; and he felt that one of the
greatest enjoyments of heaven would be in meeting
them and communing with them forever. If I ever •
saw his father and mother, to assure them that he
had never, for a moment, forgotten their prayers and
instructions, and their God had not forsaken him ;

THE GERMAN WOMEN. 411
that he felt certain the Saviour would comfort them,
and wipe away their tears, and they would see it
was all right.
And never did CMistian martyr more calmly speak
of his end, or more patiently bear his pains. He
gave me the address of his father ; it was : " Rev. W.
Bracken, Armagh, Indiana County, Pennsylvania."
As I now found him, he was suffering greatly
and had been praying that he might die. His
wounds had not been dressed for several days ; he
had been a long time Avithout food ; the annoyance
from msects, flies, and millions of larvae was un
ceasing. When he told me of all he had suffered,
and I comprehended the hopelessness of the future,
I took his hand in mine, sat down by his side, and
wept. But he had no tears ; his manliness and faith
did not forsake him for a moment. He said he had
no regrets ; these sufferings were but for a moment,
while the joy of eternal freedom from sorrow and
pain would be thereby greatly enhanced. He again
enjoined on me to let his father know where I had
seen him, and that, to the last, he clung to his Re
deemer ; and to say to his brothers and sisters that
he loved them to the end, and that only a little
before them he was entering into rest.
While I was listening to him there came two or
three German women near to us with some warm
rye coffee and herb tea. They had with them seve
ral small boys, their sons. They passed through the
crowd, stopping with one and another, and giving a
cup of beverage and a small cake. The guards
stormed and ordered them away, but they still were
happily ignorant of English; "nicht ferstehe," an-

412 DR. wells.
swered' every command, and where they could not
dare to go for them, the little boys were sent. One
of these came near to us ; I begged a cup of coffee
for the sergeant, and Avith the assistance of Mr.
Wrightman, of Pittsburg, lifted his head and gave
it all to him. I brought to him some Avine from my
own stores. While I still sat by him, there came
near to us Dr. Wells, of the 61st New York. I in
vited him to look at the sergeant ; we unbandaged-
his wounds ; I returned to the prison and brought
doAvn chloroform and turpentine, and with these the
doctor thoroughly cleared away and destroyed the
tormentors. The doctor remained Avith the sergeant
three-fourths of an hour; Avashed and placed fresh
lint and bandages on each wound, and in the pro
gress of his most self-denying labors became deeply
interested in his patient. His fortitude, patience,
and gratitude all convinced the doctor that Mr.
Bracken was no ordinary man.
I have not met Dr. Wells since those memorable'
days, and know not where he may now be, but I
rejoice to say that he is one of the most humane
and self-sacrificing of surgeons. His ear was open
to every moan of pain, and when exhausted and
fainting, he Avould rouse himself to relieve another
sufferer. About three o'clock p.m., I returned to where the
sergeant was lying. He was greatly relieved, and said
that he thought with proper care he might recover.'
I commended him to God, and bade him farewell,
promising to come down in the morning.
During the night all those wounded men were
placed in the cars and taken back to Savage Station.

LETTER FROM MR. BRACKEN. 413
I made inquiry of many soldiers whom I subse
quently met in regard to Sergeant Bracken, and
gathered from all that he died at Savage Station,
three or four days after his return.
After the recovery of my memoranda, I wrote to
Mr. Bracken, at Armagh, and received the folloAv-
ing reply, wMch I subjoin, because it will give addi
tional interest to the memorial I desire to erect in
honor of one of the best of son's and noblest of
soldiers : "Armagh, October 4th, 1862.
" Rev. and Dear Sir : — We received yours of the
8th of September this afternoon, and I now gladly
reply. You say you saw our dear son, Watson R.
Bracken. That is the first we have heard of him
since the memorable battle of the 30th of June.
One of his company, a messmate, fought in the same
regiment, though not their own, that day, but they
were separated in the fight, and that is the last we
could hear from him. His captain, A. J. Bolar, sent
us several letters before that fight, always speaking
in high commendation of Watson, as one in whom
he could confide, and he with others of his com
pany, in their letters of condolence, gave the most
satisfactory accounts of his conduct as a Christian
and a soldier, so that you are borne out in the opin
ion you kindly express " that he was a man. ' ' Oh, he
was a faithful, dutiful son, a kind-hearted and affec
tionate brother, and devoted to the cause of God and
his country, and beloved by all who knew him. We
are glad, indeed, that you became acquainted with
him, and thank you kindly that you ministered to
35*

414 CONVERSATIONS AVITH THE WOUNDFD.
him in his sufferings, and that you have made us
acquainted Avith his condition Avhen you saw him.
May heaven bless those women who pitied him.
We thought he was likely to be killed on the battle
field, and rather desired that his sufferings might
not be protracted ; but still it gives us satisfaction to
knoAvthat he still maintained his integrity, and clung
to the Saviour. Oh, it is worth more than every
thing else to have the favor of Him who is touched
Avith a feeling of our infirmities, and can administer
to our wants when earthly helps and friends fail.
It almost rends our hearts to know that our dear
Watson had to suffer so much for want of attention,
but we submit, believing that He who holds the
reins of government in his hands is wise and good.
" Our son belonged to Company H, Captain A. J.
Bolar, 12th Regiment Pennsylvania Reserve Volun
teer Corps.
"And now, dear brother, I subscribe myself,
though a stranger to you,
" Your affectionate brother in Christ,
"William Bracken.
" The Rev. Dr. Marks,
" Chaplain 63d Reg't. Pa. Vols."
There were lying on the platform many other
cases of great interest, and a volume of most touch
ing conversation and incident might have been col
lected on that day. I find a note made in my
memoranda of conversations more than usually im
pressive with Charles Volence, of 1st Reserve Corps,
Pennsylvania Volunteers ; E. S. Perkins, of the 57th
Pennsyh'ania ; and James M. Shepherd, of the 11th

PATIENCE OF THE SUFFERERS. 415
Pennsylvania Reserve Corps. The last named Avas
wounded in the chest, and I suppose did not live
more than two days. In each of these cases, and
in their words, there was much worthy of perpetual
record — each one Avas bearing patiently his suffer
ing, and sustained by faith in Him who trod every
path of human sorrow and pain, in order that we
might be led to look to Him as our Saviour, and lean
upon Him as our God.

416 SUFFERING IN PRISON.

CHAPTER XXV.
Suffering in Prison — Captain Demming — Death of Adjutant
Gaither — Heroism of Warburton — Haversack of the Dead
Soldier — Deathless Love — Sergeant Abbey.
Thursday, 11th July.— This was a day memora
ble for the most oppressive heat; the atmosphere
appeared to be filled with flame, and many of our
Avounded who had been through exposure for days
in the open fields, and endured the pain of removal
from place to place, began to sink, and the mortality
of the last days of this week was frightfully great.
The heat of confined rooms — the poisoned air —
induced fever, gangrene, tetanus, madness, and death.
The surgeons were destitute of nearly everything
essential for the relief of our wounded. We had no
lint, and cotton had to be used ; this imbedded itself
in the broken flesh, and in its removal tore off the
thread binding the arteries, thus endangering life ;
for bandages, Ave had nothing but the coarsest bag
ging ; of stimulants, Ave had none ; food was dis
pensed most capriciously, and in such small quanti
ties as only to mock our wants ; all the stores of
medicines and sanitary goods were exhausted. But
the sufferings from want did not compare with those
endured from lying in rooms crowded to suffocation,
from breathing an air so exhausted, that profuse
streams of SAveat burst from every pore, and the

CAPTAIN DEM MING. 417
healthiest panted as if in the last stages of fever,— and
in dungeons, loathsome beyond description, where
every breath brought an air more foul and poisonous.
In some of those chambers all died to Avhom death
was possible ; the others lived in defiance of every
natural law.
I have mentioned before Captain Demming, of
the 61st New York, as a very superior and accom
plished man, and as having been wounded on Mon
day, the 30th of June. When removed to Richmond
Ms case was hopeful ; when I met him, after the sepa
ration of ten days, there had been such an improve
ment that I was confident his buoyant spirits and
fine physique would secure Ms recovery ; but, after
bemg two days in the prison, he began to fail,
and soon became partially insane, and in his mad
ness there was the method of a refined, cultivated,
and noble nature. Often he would grasp my hand
in his, trembling, and say, " I wish you to stay by
me, my friend, for I am greatly troubled ; pray for
me that I may do nothing wrong." Then, again :
"Do not detain me now ; I see my wife across the
street, she stands at the door and beckons me ; ex
cuse me, I must go to her." Thus he Avas again
with one for whom he so fondly yearned, and of
whose virtues and Christian excellence he had spoken
to me in terms of the warmest affection. Rarely
have I seen a stranger for whom I felt a deeper in
terest, and when he died there passed from us one
of the most accomplished men I met in the army.
On this day, John C. Warburton, of the 5th Penn
sylvania Reserves, likewise died. I love to recall
the name and image of this young man. Captain

418 HEROISM OF WARBURTON.
McCleaiy, his commander, who was at the same time
lying badly Avounded in the prison, assured me that
Warburton was one of the best of soldiers and faith
ful of Christians. I had first seen him on the battle
field of Glendale ; his left leg was off; and such was
his cheerfulness and the appearance of the stump,
that there was every reason to hope in Ms case. But
on this day was developed the terrible tetanus, or
lockjaw ; with the first spasm he was aware of his
doom, and sent for me. He then recounted his pri
vate, family, and spiritual history; wrote his will;
gave most minute directions for the distribution of
his property; dictated Avith unbroken calmness
his last instructions to his widowed mother and
blessed her, and, Avith words of affection and faith,
sought to comfort her. He then prayed that God
Avould give him strength and patience to endure the
fierce pains and anguish of the day, and not permit
one improper word to fall from his lips. In the mo
ments of spasm not a groan escaped him, but com
pressing his lips, and clasping the cover of the cot,
his entire frame Avould tremble for a moment, and
then he Avas as calm as before. I had never seen
such heroic endurance, which not only made him
deserving of the glory of a martyr, but ennobled
human nature. He then, in words of unshaken trust,
committed himself to the Saviour, as one receiving
the baptism for the dead, and said, " now all is done :
I have nothing to do but to die." I often returned
to him during the day and found that the spasms
were increasing in frequency and violence ; but still
his peace was unbroken, not a cry or moan was
heard, and except from the convulsive heaving of

HAVERSACK OF A DEAD SOLDIER. 419
his frame, no one near him would have known that
the soldier was dying in the greatest agony. Late
at night I came to him for the last time, and in his
moments of ease he assured me there was not a cloud
nor a fear, but the " crucified One" Avas Avith him.
Early on the following morning I came again, but
the cot and sufferer were gone.
"Where is Warburton ? " I said to Nolan, who
was lying near.
" Gone up ! gone up ! "
"Hoav did he die?"
" Peaceful to the end : thanking God that Ms road
to heaven was so short."
On one of my visits to his room, Dr. Marsh
brought to me the haversack of a soldier, who had
this morning breathed his last. There were in it
several daguerreotypes, aNew Testament, and a diary.
This last was a record of camp-scenes and battles,
and a description of places and officers, of marches,
and stirring adventure, and showed the writer to be
a man of excellent sense and education. The record
was continued to the morning of the fatal day of
Mechanicsville. And there was written on an open
leaf: "Libby Prison, July — : — As you would receive
the blessing of a dying soldier send this to my bro
ther in Canonsburgh, Pennsylvania."
I went with the doctor to look on the face of the
departed ; and as we stood by the dead, talked of
many great truths in regard to human nature that
we were witnessing in these scenes; and that the
affections of the heart were the last things in man
to die. We had seen men who had lost even the

420 DEATHLESS LOVE.
memory of their OAvn names, but everything came
back to them when we asked of mother, wife, or
child. We had seen those who had become entirely in
sensible to the presence of those around them ; but
with all the strength and more than the tenderness
of heart, they talked for hours, with a depth of feeling
and pathos that moved us to tears, to their beloved
ones, whom they imagined about them. Those who,
in the greatest distress and pain, had no tears for
themselves, but Avept abundantly at the thought of
the distress and anguish that would fall on their
homes ; that we had seen many so far gone, that no
question or sound could arouse them until they were
asked if they had no message for wife or mother,
and in a moment the eye brightened, the lips moved,
and the dead was alive again. There was one name
the dying soldier never heard Avithout being moved.
That as we had stooped to listen to the last whis
per from the lips it was, " Oh, that you could say
to my father and mother that I revered and loved
them to the last;" or, " Oh, that my wife knew that
I thought of her, and loved her to the end;" or,
" My precious children." That we had often found,
Avhen the wounded had lost everything, and were
Avithout shoes, coat, shirt, or pants, they bore with
them the picture of wife and children. That we
had often found the letters of wives and mothers
lying on the bosoms and their daguerreotypes upon
the faces of dead soldiers. That long absence of
home and domestic scenes developed affections,
Avhich, in the quiet of their previous life, had been
hidden or unknown. I took charge of the haver-

DEATH OF ADJUTANT GAITHER. 421
sack, and bore it with me to the West, and sent it
to the living brother.
Close to Libby Prison there was a large Confederate
hospital, called the College ; into this Ave had seen
many ladies enter, bearing with them those thou
sand delicacies and tempting viands for the sick,
wMch only the hand of woman can prepare. But
not one of these ever spoke to us, or cast even a
look of compassion toward us. But one lady visited
our prison ; this was the sister of Major Clitz, who
was amongst the wounded. His sister, a kindly and
beautiful woman, was the wife of a General Ander
son, in the Confederate Army ; and attended by her
husband came m nearly every day. But even she
did not dare to look beyond her brother, or show
that she felt the slightest pity but for one sufferer.
Of the clergy of Richmond we never saw one;
neither did they visit any of our hospitals. Indeed,
I am convinced that such was the reign of terror in
Richmond, and so narrowly Avas every man watched
by the thousand Government spies, that they did
not dare, without bringing on themselves censure
and suspicion, show to the Union soldiers the
slightest pity.
On this day Adjutant Gaither died. He began to
sink very soon after entering the prison, and was
often revived by the faithful watching of his nurse :
but, as the day drew to its close, it became evident
that the sufferer was soon to be at rest. His intellect
continued unclouded, and his peace was unbroken.
Often, as I went to his cot, he Avould say : " I have
no dread of death, it is but the fate of life. I have
delightful views ofthe heavenly world, and my Saviour
36

422 SERGEANT ABBEY.
appears unspeakably lovely." And then he would
6ay : " Remember to write to my father and mother,
and tell them all. Say to them that I entreat them
not to grieve for me. I am at rest, and we will soon
be together forever." About ten o'clock at night
it became very plain that the dying lamp was in its
last flicker. He said to me : " I am dying now, lift
my hands in yours, clasp them together as you have
done before, and commend my departing soul to
the Lord Jesus." I did as he directed me, and
endeavored to lift him up and lay Mm in the bosom
of the great Master. I repeated the words of the
23d Psalm ; he folloAved me, and repeated a second
time Avith emphasis and raised finger : " Yea, though
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, yet
Avill I fear no evil : for Thou art Avith me," etc.
Just before he departed he repeated the words:
" ' I have fought a good fight ; I have finished my
course ; I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is
laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the
Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that
day.' And tell my father and mother that I thank
and bless them, and that I will look and wait for
them in the kingdom of God;" and while he Avas
whispering such words, the bright eye became
glassy, and over the finely moulded and beautiful
face settled the solemn grandeur of death ; and he
Avho had been a moment before with us was a com
panion of angels and a son of God.
In the same room of Libby was lying a most in
teresting young man, Sergeant Abbey, of the 20th
Indiana. He was most tenderly nursed by a young
man of the same regiment, "John Tappan." The

SERGEANT ABBEY. 423
sergeant had been wounded in the battle of Glen
dale, and lingered until July 20th, and died in great
peace. He did not suffer much pain, and therefore
could give more attention to preparation for death.
He exhibited the deepest religious earnestness, and
the most fervent desire to know the truth and trust
in it. He manifested a strong wish to partake of
the communion, and thus, on this side of the grave,
acMiowledge the Redeemer as "his Lord and his
God." And in this I mtended to gratify him, but I
was sent away from Richmond in the midst of my
labors, and at an unexpected moment. He died
peacefully and safely.

124 PRISONERS LEAVING RICHMOND

CHAPTER XXVI.
The continuance of Scenes in Libby Prison — Orders to depart
from Richmond — Scenes on Saturday Morning — Petersburg
— Major Ker — Conversation at the Depot — Journey to City
Point — Infamous Conduct of an United States Surgeon — Joy
ofthe Prisoners — Report to General Kearney — His Character
— Conclusion.
Friday, July 11th. — Early on the morning of this
day a great number of ambulances and wagons were
assembled in front of Libby Prison, for the pur
pose of removing as many of our wounded as it
Avas possible to James River, and thence to our
flag-of-truce steamers. About six hundred were
placed in the various vehicles: sixteen of our sur
geons went with their patients. Most of the officers
Avere removed at this time, and it gave to those of
us avIio remained the greatest pleasure to see many
hundreds of wan faces lighted with hope and the
anticipation of home; and this made them bear,
Avithout a groan, the pains of removal. I visited,
during the day, the prisons on Corey street aud
Main street, of which there were three on Corey
and one on Main. I found that the removal of some
of their companions in tribulation had given hope
to all, and they were enduring hunger and pain with
great patience.
On this clay one of our surgeons came up from

SURGEONS AT SAVAGE STATION. 425
Savage Station, and described the suffering there as
most harrowing and constantly increasing. He said
that all their stores of every kind were removed,
and their requisitions on the Confederate Govern
ment received no notice, except the promise of
speedy parolement ; that the wounded were perish
ing in great numbers from the want of suitable
food ; that they had nothing but flour and maggoty
bacon ; that all the surgeons Avere sick, one-half of
them unable to rise from their beds, and the others
incapable, from prostration, to attend to even a few
patients.* Such was the gloomy picture of the
misery of those Ave had left behind; and as the
death of one after another was mentioned, we shed
scarcely a tear, but rather rejoiced that they at least
had escaped from the miseries Avhich pressed so
heavily on the living.
Amongst the cases of deepest interest in the prison
was Sergeant Whitfield, of the 63d Pennsylvania.
He had been wounded in the battle of Fair Oaks,
but so far recovered as to return to duty, and bore
up with the greatest courage until a few days before
the retreat, when he was prostrated by fever, and
had to be borne to the hospital. On the approach
of the enemy, he arose and staggered after our army
* The surgeons at Savage Station were : Dr. John Swinburne ;
A. Churchill, 14th New York ; P. Middleton, U. S. A. ; II. II.
Page, Volunteer Surgeon, U. S. A. ; A. Palmer, Assistant Sur
geon 2d Maine ; 0. Munson, Assistant Surgeon New York Vol
unteers ; E. J. Marsh, Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A. ; H. J. Schell ;
W. A. Smith ; A. P. Clark, 87th New York ; G. F. Perkins, 22d
Massachusetts ; Will Falkner, 83d Pennsylvania ;  Fox, Vol
unteer Surgeon ; N. Milnor, of Philadelphia, who died of hunger
and exhaustion ;  Sutton, who died of fever.

426 SERGEANT WHITFIELD.
for several miles, and then was compelled to yield
to faintness, lie down, and become a prisoner.
When the Confederate Army had passed he dragged
Mmself back to Savage Station, and found himself
again amongst friends. He was now far gone from
protracted suffering and want, but in the course of
a few days very much revived, and everything pro
mised a speedy recovery. I had him removed from
Savage Station to Carter's house, in order that he
might be constantly under my own care. He slowly
improved until sent up to Richmond. After being
placed in Libby Prison, the worst symptoms re
turned, and on Friday, the 18th, it became plain
that but a few hours remained to him here. He
continued, however, vigorous in mind and wakeful.
When it became manifest that his end was ap
proaching, I came to him, and as gently as possible
broke our fears. He aroused as one from a trance,
and said :
" Doctor, do you think I am in great danger ? I
had not dreamed of this ; I knew that I was very
ill, but did not fear a fatal termination."
After further conversation, he calmly said he placed
himself in the hands of Jesus ; he knew in whom he
had believed. He then took from under his head
all the mementos of affection which he had borne
with him: letters, daguerreotypes, etc., etc. He gave
me Ms watch, and told me what directions to give
Mr. Appleton, his brother-in-law, in regard to his
property. He then placed in my hands one article
after another ; looked for the last time on the face
of his betrothed ; for a moment his voice trembled
with emotion, and then said, " that tie is broken ; I

DEATH OF SERGEANT WHITFIELD. 427
have notMng now but my Saviour. But while I
am able to speak, let me say to you, doctor, that
there is no man on earth to whom I owe so much as
to you ; you taught me, prayed for me, and led me
to Jesus, and ever since I was baptized in Camp
Johnson, my peace has been unbroken ; and now, in
my dying hour, I am cheered by the faith you taught
me to exercise. I thank you here, and I AviU thank
you agam in heaven." He then requested me to
fold his hands, and commit his soul unto God. He
then stretched out his hand, and bade farewell to
several companions in suffering, " until we should
meet in the Mngdom of God."
From this time he fell into a gentle slumber, which
continued unbroken until the following morning,
when he went up from the darkness and misery of
the prison-house to the glorious palace of the Eter
nal King.
In the afternoon of this day, my friend Dr. Marsh
came to me, and said :
" Do you know that Nolan will have to die ? Sec
ondary hemorrhage has commenced, and the ends
of the arteries have sloughed off; it will be impos
sible to save him."
I hastened to the hall where he was lying, and as
I approached, heard him singing the beautiful hymn :
" The place of my conversion."
When I came to his side I said : " Mr. Nolan, how
are you ?"
" Never better," said he, " the doctor thinks I am
going to die, but he is mistaken. I may never re
cover, but I am not to die in Richmond."

428 NOLAN'S FAITH IN CHRIST.
" But you are perfectly willing, Mr. Nolan, to die
here, if God wills it?"
" Oh, yes," said he ; " that matter was settled long
ago. I have no doubts nor fears ; I am my Lord's,
and He is mine. Why should I doubt His mercy ?
He has answered me too often to permit me to call
His love in question. No, doctor, I am not to die
here ; I am to live through this scene and sing God's
praises on our side. You pray with me, and commit
me to the Heavenly Keeper, and I am safe."
I did so, and as I left his side, the CM-istian sol
dier's voice rose clear and sweet in a song of praise.
In the evening I again approached his cot, and
found that the bleeding had ceased ; he had rallied.
"Doctor," said he, "I shall live to go out of this
place. God has heard my prayer, and will not per
mit me to die here."
And as I bade him farewell for the night, and
stopped by the couch of another sufferer, Nolan filled
the room with the beautiful melody of the hymn :
" The Christian's home in glory.''
I never saw him again. That night I was ordered
away from Richmond, and supposed that Nolan was
buried in the aceldema of the Rebel capital. But
at Centreville, on the Sabbath after the second bat
tle of Bull Run, a soldier spoke to me in a hospital,
and said:
" Sir, I saw you in Richmond, and have a message
for you ; you remember Nolan, the singer, and good
Christian?" " Yes ; well, what of him ? "
" He lived to be taken away from Richmond ; we
were in the same hospital at Fortress Monroe ; he

DEATH OF NOLAN AT WASHINGTON. 429
was still joyful, and singing his hymns to comfort
the wounded men and dying. He told me to tell
you, if I ever saw you, that he had lived to be taken
from the Libby Prison, and continued to rejoice in
God, his Saviour."
Seldom has anytMng occurred in my life that gave
me greater gratification, in that wretched scene of
confusion, anarchy, and death; it was a beautiful
flower in the barren desert.
I subsequently learned from another friend, that
Mr. Nolan lived to be removed to Washington, and
died in one of the hospitals of that city.
May we not hope that many learned from him the
value of that faith which lifted above all human
weakness, and gave Mm peace and triumph in suffer
ing and death?
I was in one of the upper rooms of the prison,
after night of this day, when I heard some one call
aloud from the head of the stairs :
" Chaplam Marks ! Chaplain Marks ! "
I answered, and appeared before the Confederate
officer. "Sir," said he, "you are ordered to be ready to
leave Richmond to-morrow morning, atfour o'clock."
" Where am I to be sent, sir ? "
" That I cannot tell, but I suppose to James River,
to your flag-of-truce steamer."
" I have not requested to be sent away: I came
voluntarily with these wounded men, and I Avish to
remain with them until they are released, or die. I
have sent no petition to General Winder to be re
leased. Our physicians and nurses are but few now,
and some of these are sick ; I think I can be of ser-

430 DEPARTURE FOR PETERSBURG.
vice to these sufferers, and should prefer remaining
a few days longer."
" Doctor," said the officer, " I know nothing about
the intention of General Winder in ordering you off",
but this I Avill say for your good, Avhat he commands
you to do, obey instantly ; send no petition to him,
ask no favor of him ; and let me tell you, if you are
not off to-morrow morning, it will be a long time
before you will have another opportunity ; there Avill
be something hatched up against you, and you will
be treated as a dangerous man, or a spy. You had
better go ; take my advice."
I thanked him, Avent into Captain Turner's office,
and found that orders had been received to remove
me from the prison, and place me under guard for
Petersburg. On Saturday morning, at three o'clock, I was up
and dressed, and ready to start, and by a mere acci
dent was able to save most of my baggage. When
I reached the depot, the light of the morning ena
bled me to see distinctly the faces of hundreds of
Avounded men — mothers, fathers, officers, and ser
vants. There was a great multitude of broken, hag
gard-looking sufferers helped along by the crowd of
friends, or borne by on stretchers, and Avith groans,
tears, cries, and shrieks were lifted and placed in the
cars. It required a heart of adamant to be indif
ferent to the misery of such a spectacle.
I Avas put under the care of General Winder's As
sistant Adjutant-general. This young man was
courtly and most generous in bearing. I was seated
in the cars alongside of an officer of the Confederate
Army, who told me that his home was near Wil-

ARRIVAL AT PETERSBURG. 431
liamsburg ; he was an intelligent and gentlemanly
man, and talked without any bitterness. He said the
first families of Virginia all mourned the loss of many
relatives ; that to the officers of the army it had been
very fatal, and there had gradually grown up an
intense hatred toward the North, AAdiich Avould
render a return to the Union impossible ; that when
the war first commenced they despised and loathed
the Yankees, but they had no such feeling to the men
of New Jersey and Pennsylvania ; that now they knew
no difference; that the women and children Avere
even more hostile to us than the men ; that his boys
of ten and twelve years of age could, with difficulty,
be held at home; that they were daily practising with
pistols and rifles, in order that they might be able
to shoot the Yankees. He said if they should be
conquered, not a smgle honorable person Avould re
main in the South ; that they Avould all prefer pov
erty and exile to submission to an enemy whom they
hated and despised. I listened to him, and after a
time turned the conversation to themes more grate
ful to both of us. He said their loss had been immense
at Malvern Hill : it was a slaughter-pen ; they never
would have walked into it, if Lee had commanded.
We reached Petersburg, which is not more than
twenty-five miles from Richmond, about seven
o'clock, a. m. There was an immense throng of re
latives and friends around the depot, waiting for the
arrival of the wounded, and there were many most
tender and affecting scenes. I often stood trans
fixed, a spell-bound spectator of the joy and grief,
tears, and. eloquent demonstrations of affection —
their dead were alive again, and their lost found.

432 major ker, of Petersburg.
I remarked that my evident sympathy did not, for
a moment, thaw into gentleness toward a hated
stranger; but when they looked at me, even in their
tears, in a moment there came the scowl of anger
over their faces. They were children in emotion,
but mature in passion and pride.
Petersburg is one of the most beautiful cities of
Virginia, situated at the head of Appomatix Bay,
about twelve miles from James River. It is lo
cated on the hills surrounding this sheet of water ;
the streets are wider and cleaner than most Southern
towns ; many of the residences are elegant, and en
compassed with objects of beauty and works of
art. The inhabitants of the higher streets were
evidently intensely aristocratic, and felt that no com
mon blood flowed in their veins. Everything indi
cated that Petersburg had been very prosperous pre
vious to the war. It is surrounded with one of the
finest tobacco-growing regions in Virginia.
My friend, the adjutant, conducted me to Major
Ker, who was Military Governor of Petersburg, and
surrendered me into his hands. The major was very
polite ; he is a man of military bearing, having been
for many years an army officer in the United States
service. He directed me to return to the hotel, and
that in the course of the day he would call for me,
and place me on the train for City Point. I took
occasion to Avalk through the streets ; many of the
houses were closed, and apparently abandoned;
silence and gloom reigned everywhere ; most of the
ladies, indeed every one of respectability, were robed
in mourning ; almost every face wore the look of
sorrow and despair ; not a well, strong man, except

REBEL HATRED OF P E N N S Y L VA N I AN S. 433
the militaiy, could be seen in the streets; all the
others were blind, deaf, walking on crutches, arm
less, or shaking Avith palsy. Even iii such stores
as were open, not a man able to bear arms was found
behind the counters : the persons engaged in busi
ness were old men, boys, and Avomen. I was per
mitted, without molestation, to walk several hours
around the city. I was fully aware that here, as in
Richmond, a spy was ever in sight, and every word
was noted, and every act watched. But, as they gave
me unusual liberty, a sense of honor constrained me
not to take advantage of it, and to ask no questions.
I met at the hotel Major Wood, of a loyal Kentucky
regiment ; he had been taken prisoner, and confined
in Richmond, and now paroled, was on his way to
James River. He was a fine-looMng man, affable
and commumcative to me, but could not be drawn
into conversation by any of the Rebel officers or
citizens. About two o'clock, p.m., Major Ker came to the
hotel, and requested me to walk down to the depot.
I went with Mm. While we were waiting here for
a train coming from Richmond, the major asked mc
of my State. He then went on to say, " that Penn
sylvania was the birth-place of his father ; and that
once the Southern people had a high regard for that
State, but now felt as hostile, and even more so, to
Pennsylvanians,'than to genuine Yankees, for they
had been disappointed in us. They had expected
that we would have too much pride and principle to
be dragged into this war by the selfish and scheming
New Englanders. But now they had lost all confi
dence in us."
37

434 CONVERSATION AT THE D E P 8 T .
"Major," I replied, "you are an old army officer,
and, therefore, I have no doubt seen service in the
Northern States as well as the Southern, and you
are familiar with the vieAvs and desires of the people
of the free States, and must know this war was
forced upon us. We had not been for years threat
ening hostilities and the division of the Union. We
made the largest concession to the South. We
yielded, in the spirit of compromise and for peace,
everything you asked. We had no taste for war, the
genius of our people did not run in that direction.
The very thought of civil war was dismissed from
our minds as a hideous dream, and no man amongst
us dared to predict such a national calamity. But
for years you had been preparing the -public mind
of the South for this very day by prophesying war ;
by urging your people to prepare for it. Even your
schools Avere militaiy academies ; and your children
Avere educated to look Avith the most ardent desire
for the hour when they might draw their SAVords
upon us, compel greater concessions, or secure the
glory of illustrious deeds in arms. But such, you well
know, major, was not the spirit of our people. We
felt that in peace was our greatness, and that all the
institutions we most dearly prized flourished under
its shadow. You forced this war upon us, major,
and having commenced it, you must take all the
consequences." "And we are ready to take them," said the major.
" The people of the South will never demean them
selves so far as to be associated with a people who
have robbed us, wasted our country, burned our
homes, stolen our negroes, and slain our sons.

CONVERSATION AT THE DEPOT. 435
Never! never! may I die first! If the South ever
submits to you, it will be as a desert. I have, for
my part, reached that stage now, that I desire to
take no prisoners. This war must be one of exter
mination. I never read in the papers of prisoners
being taken without a sigh. I want to see no more
of you except in battle, or as dead men. This may
sound to you as savage and brutal ; but we have borne
until endurance is no longer a virtue, indeed, it is now
a crime. You have robbed us of everything ; we are
livmg in a poverty almost equal to that of thea root-
digging Indians. Every day our dead are brought
to us. You are shutting us out from the whole
world ; publishing all manner of infamous slanders
in regard to us ; branding us as traitors, and con
fiscating our homes. Our wrongs are as great as
were ever endured even by the martyrs. Our patience
is exhausted, and the strongest desire we have now
is for revenge, and we will have it."
During this conversation, there had gathered
around us a large number of gentlemen and officers
of the Confederate army. The words of the major
stimulated several of them to frenzy, and they turned
and glared upon me with the fiercest anger.
"Yes," said one, Avho, I afterward learned, was
a grandson of the great Samuel Davies, and himself
a lawyer of the highest respectability, and an elder
in the Presbyterian church of which the Rev. Dr.
Plumer was formerly pastor — "yes," said he, "I
fully endorse, and with all my heart, all that the
major has said. I am too old to be drafted, but I
am going into the army this fall, and will have the
gratification of killing one Yankee before I die. I

436 CONVERSATION AT THE DEPOT.
am for taMng no prisoners ; we have been too gentle
and merciful."
At this moment loud and vehement were the words
of the bitterest scorn and rage which were poured
out from the^lips of the men of even grey hairs.
With one voice they exclaimed : " No, we are dene
Avith war upon humane and civilized principles ;
we are for the knife and the death." Their words
increased the excitement, until many were livid
Avith rage, and others tossed to and fro with a
frenzy beyond control. I placed my back against
the wall, and calmly surveyed the spectacle. A
noble, humane-looking North Carolina colonel edged
his way through the crowd, and placed himself
alongside for my protection. Major Ker Avas soon
ashamed of the storm he had created; lifting his
voice above the din he made himself heard, re
minding the crowd that Dr. Marks was a prisoner,
and much that had been said was ungenerous and
unbecoming. "But, doctor," said he, turning and looking me
in the face, " go home and preach peace, and you
Avill be a great deal better employed than marching
and fighting with those cursed legions who have in
vaded us."
All eyes turned on me, expecting my answer.
"Major," I said, "all that you and your friends
have uttered here has greatly surprised me ; listen
ing, as I have done, the question has arisen in my
mind, .'Are they Christians?' Have they rejected
all the teachings of the great Master, who has
taught us to hrve our enemies, to forgive, as Ave
hope to be forgiven, and to return good for evil ? I

CONVERSATION AT THE DEPOT. 437
most solemnly assure you that I never heard such
sentiments in the North. We think you have done
wrong, and we take up arms to defend the Consti
tution and laws of the land ; but towTard you, per
sonally, we have no feeling of bitterness. In all the
public meetings I haATe attended North, and in all
assemblages in the army, I have neA^er heard one of
our men speak as you have done to-day. And as
for preaching 'peace,' what shall I say? Shall I
say you have repented of your errors, and are dis
posed to lay down your arms ? Shall I say that all
you ask is your independence ? I have heard it inti
mated that you want much more than this. What
shall I say as coming from you? "
"Say," one replied, "that our negroes must be
restored to us, or paid for ; that all debts incurred
during this war shall be paid by the United States ;
that half the territories are to be ours ; that the
Border States, Missouri, Kentucky, and Maryland,
are to be left free to choose the Confederacy or the
old Union, as the majority shall determine."
" Very well, gentlemen," I replied, " let me assure
you, peace on those terms is an impossibility. Had
you taken Baltimore and Washington City, Phila
delphia and New York, such demands might be
reasonable; but e\*ery one of these concessions forced
from us would be the cause of another war. No,
you ask everything and concede nothing. We must
pay all your debts, hunt your negroes, give up to
the jail and the gallows the loyal men of the Border
States, give you the Mississippi, and allow you to im
prison or drive into exile the inhabitants of Western
Virginia. Peace on such terms Avould eoA-er us Avith

438 JOURNEY TO CITY POINT.
perpetual shame. No, gentlemen, peace is of great
value to us, but it would be the greatest curse if
purchased on your terms ; for we would stand before
the world degraded, and transmit to our children
the heritage of shame. Be assured that if I should
go North, and be so foolish as to be the advocate
of peace on the basis you ask, I should not be bowie-
knifed, ridden on a rail, nor hung to a lamp-post.
They would not even honor me with a riot ; but I
should be pitied as a man whom the miseries of
Libby Prison had bereft of reason, and whose friends
Avould consign to a lunatic asylum."
The whistle of the train from Richmond called
aAvay, in the midst of the conversation, those who
were looking for wounded sons and brothers. Only
two persons, one an officer from North Carolina,
and the other a citizen, lingered to express their'
sorrow that such a scene of vindictiveness should
disgrace them, and to assure me that all did not
partake of the malignant animosity that had been
expressed. The train containing the Federal wounded did
not arrive until after two p. m. In this were eight
hundred men, on their way to James River for our
transports. The rail track to City Point runs along
the banks ofthe Appomatix, through fruitful fields,
and a land then smiling and green. As we ap
proached James River, we came to many encamp
ments of Confederate brigades. The most of these
troops had recently arrived from the South and West,
and had not been engaged in the recent battles. In
order that they might see us and enjoy the spectacle,
the train halted everv mile; and thousands of lone:-

JOY OF THE PRISONERS. 439
haired, dark-featured men gathered around us. In
numerable were their questions, and firm their con
viction that the Avar was over; they were most
anxious to wring from our officers the confession of
defeat, and that we participated in their expectation
of peace.
When we reached the shore, the entire scene was
quiet and beautiful . The rays of the setting sun were
falling gently, after a day of tropical heat, on the hills
west of James River. The placid stream, the sleeping
islands, the dark wooded shore, the radiant glow of
the heavens reflected in the Avaters, the serene repose
of all nature, brought the highest enjoyment to
those who for Aveeks had gasped in prisons, and
drank m the air of pestilence and death.
Many of those tottering, haggard men, Avhen they
were lifted from the cars, and saw in the river our
noble steamers, and flying aloft the Stars and Stripes,
shed tears of gratitude ; others fell on their knees,
and thanked God for their deliverance ; others said
to one another, " I have never felt the old flag so
dear to us as now, and we were never so willing to
die for our country as now." "We know now the
spirit of the men we have to deal with." In a feAv
moments those able to walk staggered and limped
to the space in front of the Vanderbilt. Those
who were more ill were borne on stretchers. There
were arranged on the shore several Confederate
officers, and two or three of our Government, in
whose presence the name of each man was Avritten,
and he subjected to such examination as was deemed
essential for the satisfaction of the Richmond repre
sentatives. Of these last we had no reason to com-

410 DR. WATSON.
plain ; they were considerate and humane. But the
conduct of Dr. Watson, the surgeon in charge of
the Vanderbilt, was in the highest degree ungentle-
manly and rude. In order to display " his entire
impartiality," he seized every possible opportunity
to snub, abuse, and insult our men. Never, in the
course of my experience in my own country and in
foreign lands, have I seen an officer of any govern
ment behave in a manner so dastardly and brutal.
The whiskey must have been unusually bad to have
developed so many loathsome traits. After the
Avork of the parolement was finished, though there
were many men on the boat dying, and others so
exhausted that the least noise brought to them
torture, yet Dr. Watson took the Confederate officers
up to "his state-room, and for hours, even until long
after midnight, there were perpetrated the most in
decent and barbaric orgies ; shoutings, stampings,
yells, songs, and toasts, gave ATariety to the exercises,
and cemented the bonds of friendship.
I Avas grateful to the officer who assured me that
Dr. Watson Avas not an American, and I should
have been more grateful if he could have convinced
me he did not belong to the human race. On the
following morning, Sabbath, the 20th of July, Ave
dropped down to Harrison's Landing ; and in the
course of a few hours I Avas in the midst ofthe men
from Avhom I had been separated through many
eventful days. We had so much to say, so many
inquiries to make, that it seemed we had been parted
for years.
I soon reported myself to General Kearney, and-
was received with the most flattering expressions of

REPORT TO GENERAL KEARNEY. 441
regard. He made me detail in full all I had seen
and heard in Richmond, all my experiences in the
hospitals of the field and in the lines of the Rebel
army. He expressed the deepest sympathy for our
poor wounded soldiers, and asked by name for many
officers ; his Avhole manner was that of a man of
heart. From this time I had no personal intercourse with
General Kearney, until the fatal day of Chantilly.
While the army was yet at Centreville, I entered
his room to obtain permission to visit the wounded
at Fairfax Station. This, without a moment's hesi
tation, he granted, and urged me to remain with
him for a few moments ; during the course of our
conversation he spoke of the causes which led to
the disastrous defeat of the previous Saturday, and
then of the spirit which animated the South. For
the first time in our intercourse he spoke on the
subject of religion. He regretted that it had been
so little his study, but said his knowledge of the
world and experience taught him that the only hope
of the future was in the gospel of our Lord, and
that everything else would signally fail in producing
peace on earth and good-will amongst men. He
said the scenes in which we were living more deeply
impressed him with the value of the teachings of
the Bible.
We parted, and in the sanguinary struggle of the
evening General Kearney fell, and with him a thou
sand hopes for the country and the army. He was
a man of far more talent than many have been
. willing to concede to him. While ardent and im
pulsive, he was capable of the most wily caution ;

442 CONCLUSION.
while often stern and withering in rebuke, he Avas
generous and forgiving, and though ambitious, he
was above all low, mean jealousies. No officer in
the army Avas more laborious and sleepless ; his keen
eye Avas everywhere ; and with an energy that never
faltered, he corrected every abuse, and fully iiiAresti-
gated everything that pertained to the discipline
and well-being of his division. If he had lived, his
brilliant and chivalrous qualities would have won
for him a very high place in the admiration and
gratitude of his country.
In a few days afterwards the army was recalled
from the Peninsula and sent to reinforce General
Pope on the Rappahannock, and Avith this move
ended a campaign Avhich has scarcely a parallel in
human histor}', if we consider the splendor and mag
nitude of its commencement, the sufferings and
heroic endurance of its progress, and the disasters
Avhich darkened its close. Many of the causes which
led to a termination so unpropitious are palpable,
but others are yet to be revealed from the secret
history of councils of war and political conclaves.
Every year Avill pour increasing light on the dark
ness of that past, but, alas ! AviU not shed a ray of
comfort on tbe homes which are made desolate, nor
bring back one of our dead from unknown graves.
The subsequent history of the Army of the Poto
mac properly ranges itself under the history of those
ever-memorable campaigns which followed.

APPENDIX.

After relating the scene in the jail at Yorktown, and the lan
guage of one of the slaves to my estimable young friend, G. B.
Patch, of Washington city, in a short time I was gratified to
receive from him a song, arranged in form and shaped into
poetical symmetry; and I am glad to subjoin it here:
I.
Come, children — bless de Lord for heaven,
De negro's happy home,
For there no storm, no angry cloud,
No dark night eber come ;
There ebery tree and ebery bush,
Grows eber fresh and green,
And there no chilly, biting frost
Upon de grass is seen.
chorus. '
Come children ob de morning ob de Lord —
I long to go to heaven in de morning,
I hope to go to heaven in de morning,
0, de morning ob de Lord !
II.
Come, children — bless de Lord for heaven,
For there de birds sing gay ;
And there de sweetly laughing flowers
Do neber fade away ;
There all de long and changing year
Is but de month ob June,
And there de voices and de harps
Be neber out of tune.
chorus. — Come children ob de morning, etc.
(443)

444 APPENDIX.

III.

Come, children — tell me, if you -can,
How goes poor negro there?
Oh ! I will tell you : — he must go
By faith and humble prayer;
Prayer's de key ob de door ob heaven,
And this will let him in ;
But there's a bar will shut him out,
De mighty bar ob sin.
chorus. — Come children ob de morning, eto.
IV.
Come, poor sinners — look to J^sus,
For he will take de key,
And break de bars and ope de doors,
And lead in you and me.
Bless de Lord for Jesus, Jesus,
Who died for you and me,
We shall meet Him, if we serve Him,
At de morning jubilee.
chorus. — Come children ob de morning, etc

THE ES)D. «*;

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