MINOR ENGAGEMENTS OF THE FIRST YEAR.
LARGE NUMBER OF BATTLES FOUGHT DURING THE WAR--DISASTER AT BALL'S
BLUFF ON THE POTOMAC--SMALL ENGAGEMENTS AT EDWARDS FERRY, VA.--BATTLES
AT FALLING WATERS AND BUNKER HILL, VA.--BATTLE AT HARPER'S
FERRY--GALLANT BAYONET CHARGE AT DRANESVILLE, VA.--OPERATIONS IN WEST
VIRGINIA UNDER GENERAL McCLELLAN--BATTLES AT ROMNEY AND
BARBOURSVILLE--EFFORTS TO INDUCE KENTUCKY TO SECEDE--CAMP WILD
CAT--ENGAGEMENTS AT HODGESVILLE AND MUNFORDVILLE AND
SACRAMENTO--REASONS WHY MISSOURI DID NOT SECEDE--ENGAGEMENTS AT
CHARLESTON, LEXINGTON, AND OTHER PLACES IN THAT STATE--A BRILLIANT
CHARGE BY GENERAL FRÉMONT'S BODY GUARD UNDER ZAGONYI--INDIVIDUAL
HEROISM--BATTLE OF BELMONT--VAST EXTENT OF TERRITORY COVERED BY WAR
OPERATIONS.
The enormous number of engagements in the civil war, the extent of
country over which they were spread, and the magnitude of many of
them, have sunk into comparative insignificance many that otherwise
would have become historic. The action at Lexington, Mass., in 1775,
was nothing whatever in comparison with any one of the several actions
at Lexington, Mo., in 1861; yet every schoolboy is familiarized with
the one, and many well-read people have scarcely heard of the other.
The casualties in the battle of Harlem Heights, N. Y., numbered almost
exactly the same as those in the battle of Bolivar Heights, Va.; but
no historian of the Revolution would fail to give a full account of
the former, while one might read a very fair history of the civil war
and find no mention whatever of the latter. In the writing of any
history that is not a mere chronicle, it is necessary to observe
proportion and perspective; but we may turn aside a little from the
main course of our narrative, to recall some of the forgotten actions,
in obscure hamlets and at the crossings of sylvan streams, where for a
few men and those who were dear to them the call of duty was as stern
and the realities of war as relentless as for the thousands at
Gettysburg or Chickamauga.
[Illustration: DELIVERING DAILY PAPERS.]
In the State of Virginia, the most disastrous of these minor
engagements in 1861 was at Ball's Bluff, on the Potomac, about
thirty-five miles above Washington. It has been known also as the
battle of Edwards Ferry, Harrison's Island, and Leesburg. At this
point there is an island in the river, and opposite, on the Virginia
side, the bank rises in a bold bluff seventy feet high. A division of
National troops, commanded by Gen. Charles P. Stone, was on the
Maryland side, observing the crossings of the river in the vicinity. A
Confederate force of unknown strength was known to be at Leesburg,
about five miles from the river. McCall's division was at Dranesville,
farther toward Washington, reconnoitring and endeavoring to draw out
the enemy. At a suggestion of General McClellan to General Stone, that
some demonstration on his part might assist McCall, General Stone
began a movement that developed into a battle. On the 21st of October
he ordered a portion of his command to cross at the island and at
Conrad's Ferry, just above. They were Massachusetts troops under Col.
Charles Devens, the New York Forty-second (Tammany) regiment, Col.
Edward D. Baker's Seventy-first Pennsylvania (called the California
regiment), and a Rhode Island battery, in all about two thousand men.
The means of crossing--two or three boats--were very inadequate for an
advance, and nothing at all for a retreat. Several hours were spent in
getting one scow from the canal into the river, and the whole movement
was so slow that the Confederates had ample opportunity to learn
exactly what was going on and prepare to meet the movement. The
battery was dragged up the bluff with great labor. At the top the
troops found themselves in an open field of about eight acres,
surrounded by woods. Colonel Baker was made commander of all the
forces that crossed.
{110} The enemy soon appeared, and before the battery had fired more
than half a dozen rounds the Confederate sharp-shooters, posted on a
hill at the left, within easy range, disabled so many of the gunners
that the pieces became useless. Then there was an attack by a heavy
force of infantry in front, which, firing from the woods, cut down
Baker's men with comparative safety. The National troops stood their
ground for two hours and returned the fire as effectively as they
could; but the enemy seemed to increase in number, and grew constantly
bolder. About six o'clock, wrote Capt. Francis G. Young, "a rebel
officer, riding a white horse, came out of the woods and beckoned to
us to come forward. Colonel Baker thought it was General Johnston, and
that the enemy would meet us in open fight. Part of our column
charged, Baker cheering us on, when a tremendous onset was made by the
rebels. One man rode forward, presented a revolver at Baker, and fired
all its charges at him. Our gallant leader fell, and at the same
moment all our lines were driven back by the overwhelming force
opposed to them. But Captain Beiral, with his company, fought his way
back to Colonel Baker's body, rescued it, brought it along to me, and
then a general retreat commenced. It was _sauve qui peut_. I got the
colonel's body to the island before the worst of the rout, and then,
looking to the Virginia shore, saw such a spectacle as no tongue can
describe. Our entire forces were retreating--tumbling, rolling,
leaping down the steep heights; the enemy following them murdering and
taking prisoners. Colonel Devens left his command and swam the river
on horseback. The one boat in the Virginia channel was speedily filled
and sunk. A thousand men thronged the farther bank. Muskets, coats,
and everything were thrown aside, and all were desperately trying to
escape. Hundreds plunged into the rapid current, and the shrieks of
the drowning added to the horror of sounds and sights. The enemy kept
up their fire from the cliff above. A captain of the Fifteenth
Massachusetts at one moment charged gallantly up the hill, leading two
companies, who still had their arms, against the pursuing foe. A
moment later, and the same officer, perceiving the hopelessness of the
situation, waved a white handkerchief and surrendered the main body of
his command."
Gen. Edward W. Hinks (at that time colonel of the Nineteenth
Massachusetts Regiment), who arrived and took command just after the
action, wrote in his report: "The means of transportation, for advance
in support or for a retreat, were criminally deficient--especially
when we consider the facility for creating proper means for such
purposes at our disposal. The place for landing on the Virginia shore
was most unfortunately selected, being at a point where the shore rose
with great abruptness and was entirely studded with trees, being
perfectly impassable to artillery or infantry in line. The entire
island was also commanded by the enemy's artillery and rifles. Within
half a mile, upon either side of the points selected, a landing could
have been effected where we could have been placed upon equal terms
with the enemy, if it was necessary to effect a landing from the
island."
[Illustration: BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES DEVENS.]
[Illustration: COLONEL EDWARD D. BAKER.]
[Illustration: BATTERY WAITING FOR ORDERS.]
The losses in this action were about a hundred and fifty killed, about
two hundred and fifty wounded, and about five hundred captured.
Colonel Baker was a lawyer by profession, had been a friend of
Lincoln's in Springfield, Ill., had lived in California, then removed
to Oregon, and was elected United States senator from that State just
before the war began. He was greatly {111} beloved as a man; but
though he was brave and patriotic, and had commanded a brigade in the
Mexican war, it was evident, from his conduct of the Ball's Bluff
affair, that he had little military skill.
[Illustration: AN INCIDENT OF CAMP LIFE--CARD-PLAYING.]
Among the other minor engagements was one at Edwards Ferry, Va., June
17th, in which three hundred Pennsylvanians, under Captain Gardner,
were attacked by a Confederate force that tried to take possession of
the ferry. After a fight of three hours the assailants were driven off
with a loss of about thirty men. Captain Gardner lost four.
On July 2d there was an engagement of six hours' duration at Falling
Waters, Va., between the brigades of Abercrombie, Thomas, and Negley,
and a Confederate force under General Jackson. It was a stubborn
fight. The Confederates, who had four regiments of infantry and one of
cavalry, with four guns, at length retreated slowly, having lost about
ninety men. The National loss was thirteen.
At Bunker Hill, near Martinsburg, on July 15th, General Patterson's
division, being on the march, was attacked by a body of about six
hundred cavalry, led by Colonel Stuart. When the cavalry charged, the
National infantry opened their lines and disclosed a battery, which
poured rapid discharges of shells and grape shot into the
Confederates, and put them to rout. The Federal cavalry then came up
and pursued the fugitives two miles.
{112} [Illustration: BATTLE OF MUMFORDSVILLE, KENTUCKY, SEPTEMBER 14,
1862.]
In October the Thirteenth Massachusetts Regiment crossed the Potomac
at Harper's Ferry, to seize a large quantity of wheat that was stored
there for the Confederate Government. A day or two later they were
reënforced by three companies of the Third Wisconsin Regiment, four of
the Twenty-eighth Pennsylvania, and sections of a New York and a Rhode
Island battery. The guns were placed to command approaches of the
town, pickets were thrown out, and the wheat was removed. On the 16th
the pickets on Bolivar Heights, west of the town, were driven in, and
this was followed by an attack from a Confederate force, consisting of
three regiments of infantry, one of cavalry, and seven pieces of
artillery. Gen. John W. Geary, commanding the National forces, placed
one company for the defence of the fords of the Shenandoah, and with
the remaining troops met the attack. Three successive charges by the
cavalry were repelled; then a rifled gun was brought across the river
and directed its fire upon the Confederate battery; and at the same
time Geary advanced his right flank, turned the enemy's left, and
gained a portion of Bolivar Heights. He then ordered a general forward
movement, gained the entire Heights, and drove the enemy across the
valley toward Halltown. From lack of cavalry he was unable to pursue;
but he planted guns on Bolivar Heights, and soon silenced the
Confederate guns on London Heights. Before recrossing the Potomac the
troops burned the iron foundry at Shenandoah City. In this action the
National loss was four killed, seven wounded, and two captured. The
Confederate loss was not ascertained, but it was supposed to be
somewhat over a hundred men, besides one gun and a large quantity of
ammunition. A member of the Massachusetts regiment, in giving an
account of this action, wrote: "There were many side scenes. Stimpson
had a hand-to-hand fight with one of the cavalry, whom he bayoneted,
illustrating the bayonet drill in which the company had been
exercised. Corporal Marshall was chased by a mounted officer while he
was assisting one of the wounded Wisconsin boys off. He turned and
shot {113} his pursuer through the breast. The officer proved to be
Colonel Ashby, commander of the rebels, which accounted for the lull
in the battle. We have since learned that he was not killed."
[Illustration: FEDERAL TROOPS FORAGING.]
On December 20th Gen. E. O. C. Ord, commanding a brigade, moved
westward along the chain-bridge road, toward Dranesville, for the
purpose of making a reconnoissance and gathering forage. Near
Dranesville, when returning, he was attacked by a Confederate force
consisting of five regiments of infantry and one of cavalry, with a
battery. The attack came from the south and struck his right flank.
Changing front so as to face the enemy, he found advantageous ground
for receiving battle, and placed his artillery so as to enfilade the
Centreville road on which the enemy's battery was posted. Leaving his
cavalry in the shelter of a wooded hill, he got his infantry well in
hand and moved steadily forward on the enemy. His guns were handled
with skill, and soon exploded a Confederate caisson and drove off the
battery. Then he made a bayonet charge, before which the Confederate
infantry fled, leaving on the field their dead and wounded, and a
large quantity of equipments. His loss was seven killed and sixty
wounded. The Confederate loss was about a hundred.
That portion of Virginia west of the Alleghanies (now West Virginia)
never was essentially a slaveholding region. The number of slaves held
there was very small, as it always must be in a mountainous country;
and the interests of the people, with their iron mines, their coal
mines, and their forests of valuable timber, and their streams flowing
into the Ohio, were allied much more closely with those of the free
States than with those of the tide-water portion of their own State.
When, therefore, at the beginning of the war, before the people of
Virginia had voted on the question of adopting or rejecting the
ordinance of secession as passed by their convention, troops from the
cotton States were poured into that State to secure it for the
Confederacy, they found no such welcome west of the mountains as east
of them; and the task of driving them out from the valleys of the
Kanawha and the Monongahela was easy in comparison with the work that
lay before the National armies on the Potomac and the James.
Major-Gen. George B. McClellan, then in his thirty-fifth year, crossed
the Ohio with a small army in May, and won several victories that for
the time cleared West Virginia of Confederate troops, gained him a
vote of thanks in Congress, and made for him a sudden reputation,
which resulted in his being called to the head of the army after the
disaster at Bull Run. Some of the battles in West Virginia, including
Philippi, Cheat River, and Rich Mountain, have already been described.
An account of other minor engagements in that State is given in this
chapter.
There were several small actions at Romney, in Virginia, the most
considerable of which took place on October 26th. General Kelly, with
twenty-five hundred men, marched on that place from the west, while
Col. Thomas Johns, with seven hundred, approached it from the north.
Five miles from Romney, Kelly drove in the Confederate outposts, and
nearer the town he met the enemy drawn up in a commanding position,
with a rifled twelve-pounder on a hill. They also had intrenchments
commanding the bridge. After some artillery firing, Kelly's cavalry
forded the river, while his infantry charged across the bridge,
whereupon the Confederates retreated precipitately toward Winchester.
Kelly captured four hundred prisoners, two hundred horses, three
wagon-loads of new rifles, and a large lot of camp equipage. The
losses in killed and wounded were small. In this action a Captain
Butterfield, of an Ohio regiment, was mounted on an old team horse,
which became unmanageable and persisted in getting in front of the
field gun that had just been brought up. This embarrassed the gunners,
who were ready and anxious to make a telling shot, and finally the
captain shouted: "Never mind the old horse, boys. Blaze away!" The
shot was then made, which drove off a Confederate battery; and a few
minutes later, when the charge was ordered, the old horse, with his
tail scorched, wheeled into line and participated in it.
At the same time when General McClellan was operating against the
Confederate forces in the northern part of West Virginia, Gen. Jacob
D. Cox commanded an expedition that marched from Guyandotte into the
valley of the Great Kanawha. His first action was at Barboursville,
which he captured. At Scarytown, on the river, a detachment of his
Ohio troops, commanded by Colonel Lowe, was defeated by a Confederate
force under Captain Patton, and lost nearly sixty men. Cox then
marched on Charleston, which was held by a force under General Wise.
But Wise retreated, crossed Gauley River and burned the bridge, and
continued his flight to Lewisburg. Here he was superseded by General
Floyd, who brought reinforcements. Floyd attacked the Seventh Ohio
Regiment at Cross Lanes, and defeated it, inflicting a loss of about
two hundred men. He then advanced to Carnifex Ferry, endeavoring to
flank Cox's force, when General Rosecrans, with ten thousand men, came
down from the northern part of the State. Floyd had a strong position
on Gauley River, and Rosecrans sent forward a force to reconnoitre.
The commander of this, General Benham, pushed it too boldly, and it
developed into an engagement (September {114} 10th), wherein he lost
about two hundred men, including Colonel Lowe and other valuable
officers. Rosecrans made preparations for giving battle in earnest
next day; but in the night Floyd retreated, leaving a large portion of
his baggage, and took a position thirty miles distant. Soon afterward
General Lee arrived with another force and took command of all the
Confederate troops, numbering now about twenty thousand, and then in
turn Rosecrans retreated. On the way, Lee had made a reconnoissance of
a position held by General Reynolds at Cheat Mountain (September
12th), and in the consequent skirmishing he lost about a hundred men,
including Col. John A. Washington, of his staff, who was killed.
Reynolds's loss was about the same, but Lee found his position too
strong to be taken. Early in November, Lee was called to Eastern
Virginia, and Rosecrans then planned an attack on Floyd; but it
miscarried through failure of the flank movement, which was intrusted
to General Benham. But Benham pursued the enemy for fifty miles,
defeated the rear guard of cavalry, and killed its leader. On December
12th, General Milroy, who had succeeded General Reynolds, advanced
against the Confederates at Buffalo Mountain; but his attack was badly
managed, and failed. He was then attacked, in turn, but the enemy had
no better success. Three or four hundred men were disabled in these
engagements. On the last day of the year Milroy sent eight hundred men
of the Twenty-fifth Ohio Regiment, under Major Webster, against a
Confederate camp at Huntersville. They drove away the Confederates,
burned six buildings filled with provisions, and returned without
loss.
Through the natural impulses of a large majority of her people, and
their material interests, aided by these military operations, small as
they were in detail, West Virginia was by this time secured to the
Union, and would probably have remained in it even if the war had
terminated otherwise.
There never was any serious danger that Kentucky would secede, though
her governor refused troops to the National Government and pretended
to assume a position of neutrality. Such a position being essentially
impossible, such of the young men of that State as believed in the
institution of slavery went largely into the Confederate army, while a
greater number entered the National service and were among its best
soldiers. The Confederate Government was very loath to give up
Kentucky, admitted a delegation of Kentucky secessionists to seats in
its Congress, and made several attempts to invade the State and occupy
it by armed force. The more important actions that were fought there
are narrated elsewhere. A few of the minor ones must be mentioned
here.
To protect the loyal mountaineers in the eastern part of the State, a
fortified camp, called Camp Wild Cat, was established on the road
leading to Cumberland Gap. It was at the top of a high cliff,
overlooking the road, and was commanded by a heavily-wooded hill a few
hundred yards distant. The force there was commanded by Gen. Albin
Schoepff. A force of over seven thousand Confederates, commanded by
General Zollicoffer, marched upon this camp and attacked it on the
same day that the battle of Ball's Bluff was fought, October 21st. The
camp had been held by but one Kentucky regiment; but on the approach
of the enemy it was reinforced by the Fourteenth and Seventeenth Ohio,
the Thirty-third Indiana, and Stannard's battery. After a fight with a
battalion of Kentucky cavalry, the Confederate infantry charged up the
hill and were met by a withering fire, which drove them back. They
advanced again, getting within a few yards of the log breastwork,
placed their caps on their bayonets and shouted that they were Union
men. This gave them a chance to fire a volley at close range; but it
was answered so immediately and so effectively that they broke and
fled down the hill. Then the artillery was brought into play and
hastened their flight, besides thwarting an attack that had been made
by a detachment on the flank. In the afternoon the attempt was
repeated, by two detachments directed simultaneously against the
flanks of the position; but it was defeated in much the same way that
the morning attack had been. Zollicoffer then drew off his forces, and
that night their campfires could be seen far down the valley. The
National loss was about thirty men, that of the Confederates was
estimated at nearly three hundred.
[Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL JACOB D. COX.]
[Illustration: BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL EDWARD W. HINKS.]
[Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM S. ROSECRANS.]
Two days later there were sharp actions at West Liberty and {115}
Hodgesville. A regiment of infantry and a company of cavalry, with one
gun, marched thirty-five miles between half-past two and half-past
nine P.M., in constant rain, making several fords, one of which,
across the Licking, was waist deep. The object was to drive the
Confederates out of West Liberty and take possession of the town. In
this they were successful, with but one man wounded. The Confederates
lost twenty, and half a dozen Union men who had been held as prisoners
were released. The greatest benefit resulting from the action was the
confidence that it gave to the Unionists in that region. One
correspondent wrote: "The people had been taught that the Union
soldiers would be guilty of most awful atrocities. Several women made
their appearance on Thursday, trembling with cold and fear, and said
that they had remained in the woods all night after the fight. The
poor creatures had been told that the Abolition troops rejoiced to
kill Southern babies, and were in the habit of carrying little
children about on their bayonets in the towns which they took; and
this was actually believed." A detachment of the Sixth Indiana
Regiment made a sudden attack on a Confederate camp near Hodgesville,
and after a short, sharp fight drove off the enemy, killing or
wounding eight of them, and captured many horses and wagons and a
large quantity of powder.
Near Munfordville, on December 17th, a portion of the Thirty-second
Indiana Regiment, under Lieutenant-Colonel Trebra, was attacked by two
regiments of infantry, a regiment of cavalry, and a battery. They
maintained a spirited defence until they were reinforced, and then
continued the fight till it ended in the retreat of the enemy. General
Buell said in his report: "The attack of the enemy was mainly with his
cavalry and artillery. Our troops fought as skirmishers, rallying
rapidly into squares when charged by the cavalry--sometimes even
defending themselves singly and killing their assailants with the
bayonet." The National loss was eight killed and ten wounded; the
Confederate, thirty-three killed (including Colonel Terry, commanding)
and fifty wounded. A Confederate account said: "All in all, this is
one of the most desperate fights of the war. It was hand to hand from
first to last. No men could have fought more desperately than the
enemy. The Rangers were equally reckless. Colonel Terry, always in the
front, discovered a nest of five of the enemy. He leaped in his
saddle, waved his hat, and said, 'Come on, boys! Here's another bird's
nest.' He fired and killed two of them. The other three fired at him
simultaneously. One shot killed his charger; another shot killed him.
He fell headlong from his horse without a moan or a groan. At the same
time, Paulding Anderson and Dr. Cowan rode up and despatched the
remaining three of the enemy. When Colonel Terry's fall was announced
it at once prostrated his men with grief. The fight ended here." This
action is also known by the name of Rowlett's Station and
Woodsonville.
On December 28th a small detachment of cavalry, led by Major Murray,
left camp near Calhoun, Ky., for a scout across Green River. Near
Sacramento they were surprised and attacked by seven hundred cavalry
under Colonel Forrest. They sustained an almost hand-to-hand fight for
half an hour, and then, as their ammunition was exhausted, retreated.
It is impossible to reconcile the accounts of the losses; but it is
certain that Capt. A. G. Bacon was killed on the National side, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Meriwether of the Confederates. This closed the
first year's fighting in Kentucky.
[Illustration: REVIEW OF CONFEDERATE TROOPS EN ROUTE TO THE FRONT,
PASSING PULASKI MONUMENT, SAVANNAH, GA.]
{116} [Illustration: SIEGE OF LEXINGTON, MISSOURI.]
In Missouri there were special and strong reasons against secession.
Her slave population was comparatively small, and her soil and climate
were suited to crops that do not require negro labor. She was farthest
north of any slave State; and if she had joined the Confederacy, and
it had established itself, she would have been bordered on {117} three
sides by foreign territory, with nothing but a surveyed line for the
boundary on two of those sides. Moreover, there was a large German
element in her population, industrious, opposed to slavery, loving the
Union, and belonging, to a considerable extent, to the Republican
party. In the presidential election of 1860, 26,430 Republican votes
were cast in slave States (all in border States), and of these 17,028
were cast in Missouri. Delaware gave the next highest number--3,815.
Of 148,490 Democratic votes cast in Missouri, but 31,317 were for
Breckinridge, the extreme proslavery candidate. Nevertheless, the
secessionists made a strong effort to get Missouri out of the Union.
The methods pursued have been described in a previous chapter,
together with the results of the first fighting, and the defeat and
death of General Lyon in the battle of Wilson's Creek.
[Illustration: COLONEL JAMES A. MULLIGAN.]
[Illustration: BURYING THE DEAD.]
A Confederate force--or rather the materials for a force, for the men
were poorly equipped and hardly drilled at all--commanded by Colonel
Hunter, was gathered at Charleston, Mo., in August, encamped about the
court-house; and on the 19th Colonel Dougherty, of the Twenty-second
Illinois Regiment, set out to capture it. He arrived at Camp Lyon in
the evening with three hundred men, learned of the position of the
enemy, and said to Captain Abbott, who had made the reconnoissance:
"We are going to take Charleston to-night. You stay here and engage
the enemy till we come back." Then to his men: "Battalion, right face
forward, march!" As they neared the town, double quick was ordered,
and the two companies in the advance proceeded rapidly, but the
following ones became somehow separated. These two companies drove in
the pickets, followed them sharply, and charged into the town,
scattering the small detachment of raw cavalry. The second in command
then asked of Colonel Dougherty what should be done next. "Take the
court-house, or bust," he answered; and at once that building was
attacked. The Confederates fired from the windows; but the assailants
concentrated a destructive fire upon it, and then rushed in at the
doors. Some escaped through the windows, some were shot down while
attempting to do so, and many were captured. Later in the day a
company of Illinois cavalry pursued the retreating Confederates, and
captured forty more, with many horses. In this engagement
Lieutenant-Colonel Ransom had a personal encounter with a Confederate
officer, who rode up to him and called out: "What do you mean? You are
killing our own men."--"I know what I am doing," answered Ransom. "Who
are you?"--"I am for Jeff Davis," said the stranger. "Then you are the
man I am after," said Ransom, and they drew their pistols. The
Confederate fired first, and wounded Ransom in the arm, who then fired
and killed his antagonist. The National loss {118} was one killed and
four wounded. The Confederate loss was reported at forty killed;
number of wounded, unknown.
Late in August, when it was learned that a movement against Lexington,
on Missouri River, was about to be made by a strong Confederate force
under General Price, measures were taken to reinforce the small
garrison and prevent the place from falling into the hands of the
enemy. The Twenty-third Illinois Regiment, Col. James A. Mulligan,
which was called "the Irish Brigade," was ordered thither from
Jefferson City, and other reinforcements were promised. Mulligan, with
his command, set out at once, marched nine days, foraging on the
country, and on reaching Lexington found there a regiment of cavalry
and one of home guards. The next day the Thirteenth Missouri Regiment,
retreating from Warrensburg, joined them. This gave Mulligan a total
force of about two thousand eight hundred men, who had forty rounds of
ammunition, and he had seven field-guns and a small quantity of
provisions. He took possession of the hill east of the town, on which
stood the Masonic College, and proceeded to fortify. His lines
enclosed about eighteen acres, and he had put but half a day's work on
them when, in the evening of September 11th, the enemy appeared. In
the morning of the 12th the fighting began, when a part of Mulligan's
men drove back the enemy's advance and burned a bridge, which
compelled them to make a detour and approach the place by another
road. Again Mulligan sent out a detachment to check them while his
remaining force worked on the intrenchments, and there was brisk
fighting in the cemetery at the edge of the town. In the afternoon
there was a lively artillery duel, and the National forces held their
own, dismounting a Confederate gun, exploding a caisson, and causing
the enemy to withdraw at dusk to a camp two miles away. The next day
the garrison fitted up a small foundry, in which they cast shot for
their cannon, obtained powder and made cartridges, and continued the
work on the intrenchments. The great want was provisions and water. In
the next five days the Confederates were heavily reinforced, while the
little garrison looked in vain for the promised help.
On the 18th a determined attack in force was made. Colonel Mulligan
wrote: "They came as one dark moving mass, their guns beaming in the
sun, their banners waving, and their drums beating. Everywhere, as far
as we could see, were men, men, men, approaching grandly. Our spies
had brought intelligence and had all agreed that it was the intention
of the enemy to make a grand rush, overwhelm us, and bury us in the
trenches of Lexington." Mulligan's men sustained the shock bravely,
and the enemy met such a deadly fire that they could not get to the
works. But meanwhile they had interposed a force between the works and
the river, shutting off the supply of water, and they kept up a heavy
bombardment with sixteen pieces of artillery. They also took
possession of a large house outside the lines which was used as a
hospital, and filled it with sharp-shooters. Mulligan ordered two
companies--one of home guards and one from the Fourteenth Missouri--to
drive them out, but they refused to undertake so hazardous a task. He
then sent a company from his Irish regiment, who rushed gallantly
across the intervening space, burst in the doors, took possession of
the house, and (under an impression that the laws of war had been
violated in thus using a hospital for sharp-shooters) killed every
Confederate soldier caught inside. Two hours later the Confederates in
turn drove them out and again occupied the building. Firing was kept
up through the 19th; and on the 20th the besiegers obtained bales of
hemp, wet them, and rolling them along before them as a movable
breastwork, were enabled to approach the intrenchments. Bullets would
not go through these bales, and red-hot shot would not set them on
fire. Yet the fight still continued for some hours, until the
ammunition of the garrison was all but exhausted. For five days they
had had no water except as they could catch rain when it fell, the
provisions were eaten up, and there was no sign of the promised
reinforcements. There was nothing to do but surrender. Mulligan had
lost one hundred and fifty men killed or wounded; the Confederate
report acknowledged a loss of one hundred, which probably was far
short of the truth. A correspondent who was present wrote: "Hundreds
of the men who fought on the Confederate side were attached to no
command. They came in when they pleased, fought or not as they
pleased, left when ready, and if killed were buried on the spot--were
missed from no muster-roll, and hence would not be reckoned in the
aggregate loss. The Confederates vary in their statements. One said
they lost sixty killed; another said their loss was at least equal to
that of the Federals; while still another admitted to me that the
taking of the works cost them a thousand men. I saw one case that
shows the Confederate style of fighting. An old Texan, dressed in
buckskin and armed with a long rifle, used to go up to the works every
morning about seven o'clock, carrying his dinner in a tin pail. Taking
a good position, he banged away at the Federals till noon, then rested
an hour and ate his dinner, after which he resumed operations till six
P.M., when he returned home to supper and a night's sleep." The
privates of Mulligan's command were paroled, and the officers held as
prisoners.
In October the National troops stationed at Pilot Knob, Mo., commanded
by Col. J. B. Plummer, were ordered to march on Fredericktown and
attack a Confederate force there, two thousand strong, commanded by
Gen. Jeff. Thompson. They arrived at that place in the evening of the
21st, and found that it had just been evacuated. They consisted of
Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin troops, with cavalry and a battery,
and numbered about three thousand five hundred. Three thousand more,
commanded by Col. W. P. Carlin, marched from Cape Girardeau and joined
them at Fredericktown. About half of the entire force was then sent in
pursuit of the enemy, who was found just south of the town. An
engagement was at once begun with artillery, and then the Seventeenth
Illinois Regiment charged upon the Confederate battery and captured
one gun. Then followed a running fight that lasted four hours, the
Confederates stopping frequently to make a temporary stand and fire a
few rounds from their battery. As these positions were successively
charged or flanked, and attacked with artillery and musketry, they
retired from them. At five o'clock in the afternoon the pursuit was
discontinued, and the National forces returned to Fredericktown. They
had lost seven men killed and sixty wounded. They had captured two
field-pieces and taken sixty prisoners, and the next day they buried a
hundred and sixty Confederate dead. Among the enemy's killed was
Colonel Lowe, second in command.
A few days later there was a brilliant affair at Springfield, not far
from the scene of General Lyon's defeat and death in August. There was
a small, select cavalry organization known as General Frémont's
body-guard, commanded by Major Charles Zagonyi, a Hungarian, who had
seen service in Europe. On the 24th Zagonyi received orders to take a
part of his command, and Major White's battalion of prairie scouts,
and march on Springfield, fifty miles distant, with all possible
haste. It was supposed that the Confederate troops there numbered four
hundred. The {119} order was obeyed with alacrity, and early the next
day he neared the town. Here he captured half a dozen Confederate
soldiers of a foraging party, and from them and certain Unionists
among the inhabitants, he learned that the enemy in the town numbered
two thousand instead of four hundred. Undaunted by this, he resolved
to push forward. Some of the foraging party who escaped carried the
news of his approach, and the Confederates made quick dispositions to
receive him. Finding a regiment drawn up beside the road, he avoided
it by a detour and came in on another road, but here also the enemy
were ready for him. Placing his own command in the advance, with
himself at the head, he prepared to charge straight into the midst of
the enemy. For some unknown reason, White's command, instead of
following directly, counter-marched to the left, and Zagonyi with his
one hundred and sixty men went in alone. They began with a trot, and
soon increased the pace to a gallop, unmindful of the fire of
skirmishers in the woods, which emptied several of their saddles. The
enemy, infantry and cavalry, was drawn up in the form of a hollow
square, in an open field. Zagonyi's band rode down a lane, jumped a
brook, threw down a fence, and then charged right across the field
into the midst of their foes, spreading out fan-like as they neared
them, and using their pistols and sabres vigorously. The Confederate
cavalry gave way and scattered almost at once; the infantry stood a
little longer, and then retreated. Major White with his command came
up just in time to strike them in the flank, completing the rout. An
eye-witness wrote: "Some fled wildly toward the town, pursued by the
insatiate guards, who, overtaking them, either cut them down with
their sabres or levelled them with shots from their pistols. Some were
even chased through the streets of the city and then killed in
hand-to-hand encounters with their pursuers." Zagonyi raised the
National flag on the court-house, detailed a guard to attend to his
wounded, and then retired to Bolivar. His own account of the fight,
given in Mrs. Frémont's "Story of the Guard," is quaint and
interesting.
[Illustration: FORTIFICATIONS AND INTRENCHMENTS AT PILOT KNOB, MO.]
{120} [Illustration: CHARGE OF FRÉMONT'S BODY-GUARD UNDER MAJOR
ZAGONYI, NEAR SPRINGFIELD, MO.]
[Illustration: PURSUIT OF THE ENEMY.]
[Illustration: MAJOR CHARLES ZAGONYI.]
"About four o'clock I arrived on the highest point on the Ozark
Mountains. Not seeing any sign of the enemy, I halted my command, made
them known that the enemy instead of four hundred is nineteen hundred.
But I promised them victory if they will be what I thought and
expected them to be. If any of them too much fatigued from the
fifty-six miles, or sick, or unwell, to step forward; but nobody was
worn out. (Instead of worn out, it is true that every eye was a fist
big.) I made them known that this day I want to fight the first and
the last hard battle, so that if they meet us again they shall know
with who they have to do and remember the Body-Guard. And ordered
quick march. Besides, I tell them, whatever we meet, to keep together
and look after me; would I fall, not to give up, but to avenge mine
death. To leave every ceremonious cuts away in the battlefield and use
only right cut and thrust. Being young, I thought they might be
confused in the different cuts, and the Hungarian hussars say, 'Never
defend yourselves--better make {121} your enemy defend himself and you
go in.' I just mention them that you know very well that I promised
you that I will lead you shortly to show that we are not a fancy and
only guard-doing-duty soldiers, but fighting men. My despatch meant
what I will do. In the hour I get the news my mind was settled. I say,
Thank God, if I am to fight, it is not four hundred! but nineteen
hundred! I halt my men again and say, 'Soldiers! When I was to recruit
you, I told you you was not parade soldiers, but for war. The enemy is
more than we. The enemy is two thousand, and we are but one hundred
and fifty. It is possible no man will come back. No man will go that
thinks the enemy too many. He can ride back. (I see by the glimpsing
of their eye they was mad to be chanced a coward.) The Guard that
follow me will take for battle-cry, "Frémont and the Union,"
and--CHARGE--!' Running down the lane between the cross-fire, the
First Company followed close, but the rest stopped for a couple
seconds. I had not wondered if none had come--young soldiers and such
a tremendous fire, bullets coming like a rain.
"As I arrived down on the creek I said aloud, 'If I could send
somebody back I would give my life for it. We are lost here if they
don't follow.' My Adjutant, Majthenyi, hearing, feared that he will be
sent back, jumped down from his horse and busy himself opening the
fence. I expected to find the enemy on the other end of Springfield,
but, unexpectedly coming out of the woods to an open place, I was
fired on in front of mine command. Halted for a minute, seeing that,
or a bold forward march under a cross-fire, or a doubtful retreat with
losing most of my men, I took the first and commanded 'March!' Under a
heavy cross-fire (in trot), down the little hill in the lane--two
hundred yards--to a creek, where I ordered the fence to be
opened--marched in my command--ordered them to form, and with the
war-cry of 'Frémont and the Union,' we made the attack. The First
Company, forty-seven strong, against five or six hundred infantry, and
the rest against the cavalry, was made so successfully, that, in three
minutes, the cavalry run in every direction, and the infantry
retreated in the thick wood, and their cavalry in every direction. The
infantry we were not able to follow in the woods, so that we turned
against the running cavalry. With those we had in different places,
and in differing numbers, attacked and dispersed--not only in one
place, but our men were so much emboldened, that twenty or thirty
attacked twenty, thirty times their numbers, and these single-handed
attacks, fighting here and there on their own hook, did us more harm
than their grand first attack. By them we lost our prisoners.
Single-handed they fought bravely, specially one--a lieutenant--who,
in a narrow lane, wanted to cut himself through about sixty of us,
running in that direction. But he was not able to go very far. Firing
two or three times, he ran against me, and put his revolver on my
side, but, through the movement of the horse, the shot passed behind
me. He was a perfect target--first cut down and after shot. He was a
brave man; for that reason I felt some pity to kill him. We went to
their encampment, but the ground was deserted, and we returned to the
Court-house, raised the company-flag, liberated prisoners, and
collected my forces together--which numbered not more, including
myself, than seventy men on horseback. The rest--without horses, or
wounded, and about thirty who had dispersed in pursuit of the enemy--I
could not gather up; and it was midnight before they reached me--and
some of them next day. I never was sick in my life, Madame, till what
time I find myself leaving Springfield, in the dark, with only
sixty-nine men and officers--I was the seventy. I was perfectly sick
and disheartened, so I could hardly sit in the saddle, to think of so
dear a victory. But it ended so that fifteen is dead--two died
after--ten prisoners, who was released, and of the wounded, not one
will lose a finger. In all seventeen lost.
"The bugler (Frenchman) I ordered him two three time to put his sword
away and take the bugle in his hand, that I shall be able to use him.
Hardly I took my eyes down, next minute I seen him, sword in the hand,
all bloody; and this he done two or three times. Finally, the mouth of
the bugle being shot away, the bugler had excuse for gratifying
himself in use of the sword. One had a beautiful wound through the
nose. 'My boy,' I told him, 'I would give any thing for that wound.'
After twenty-four hours it was beautiful--just the mark enough to show
a bullet has passed through; but, poor fellow, he cannot even show it.
It healed up so as to leave no mark at all. He {122} had also five on
his leg and shoulder, and the fifth wound he only found after six
days; he could not move easy, for that reason he was late to find
there was two wounds in the legs."
Early in November, General Grant was ordered to make demonstrations on
both sides of the Mississippi near Columbus, to prevent the
Confederates from sending reinforcements to General Price, in Southern
Missouri, and also to prevent them from interfering with the movements
of certain detachments of National troops. On the 6th he left Cairo
with three thousand men, on five steamers, convoyed by two gunboats,
and passed down the river to the vicinity of Columbus. To attack that
place would have been hopeless, as it was well fortified and strongly
garrisoned. He landed his troops on the Missouri side on the 7th, and
put them in motion toward Belmont, opposite Columbus, deploying
skirmishers and looking for the enemy. They had not gone far before
the enemy was encountered, and then it became a fight through the
woods from tree to tree. After two or three miles of this, they
arrived at a fortified camp surrounded with abatis. Grant's men
charged at once, succeeded in making their way through the
obstructions, and soon captured the camp with the artillery and some
prisoners. But most of the Confederates escaped and crossed the river
in their own boats, or took shelter under the bank. The usual result
of capturing a camp was soon seen. The victors laid down their arms
and devoted themselves to plundering, while some amused themselves
with the captured guns, firing at empty steamers. Meanwhile the
defeated men under the bank regained confidence and rallied, and two
steamers filled with Confederate soldiers were sent over from
Columbus; while the guns there, commanding the western bank, were
trained and fired upon the camp. To stop the plundering and bring his
men to order, Grant had the camp set on fire and then ordered a
retreat. The men formed rapidly, with deployed skirmishers, and
retired slowly to the boats, Grant himself being the last one to go on
board. Some of the wounded were taken on the transports, others were
left on the field. The National loss was 485; the Confederate loss was
642, including 175 carried off as prisoners. The Unionists also spiked
four guns and brought off two. Both sides claimed this action as a
victory--Grant, because he had accomplished the object for which he
set out, preventing reinforcements from being sent to Price; the
Confederates, because they were left in possession of the field. But
it was generally discussed as a disaster to the National arms. There
were many interesting incidents. One man who had both legs shot off
was found in the woods singing "The Star Spangled Banner." Another,
who was mortally wounded, had propped himself up against a tree and
thought to take a smoke. He was found dead with his pipe in one hand,
his knife in the other, and the tobacco on his breast. A Confederate
correspondent told this story: "When the two columns came face to
face, Colonel Walker's regiment was immediately opposed to the Seventh
Iowa, and David Vollmer, drawing the attention of a comrade to the
stars and stripes that floated over the enemy, avowed his intention of
capturing the colors or dying in the attempt. The charge was made, and
as the two columns came within a few yards of each other, Vollmer and
a young man named Lynch both made a rush for the colors; but Vollmer's
bayonet first pierced the breast of the color-bearer, and, grasping
the flag, he waved it over his head in triumph. At this moment he and
Lynch were both shot dead. Captain Armstrong stepped forth to capture
the colors, when he also fell, grasping the flagstaff." Another
correspondent wrote: "The Seventh Iowa suffered more severely than any
other regiment. It fought continually against fearful odds. Ever
pushing onward through the timber, on their hands and knees, they
crawled with their standard waving over them until they reached the
cornfield on the left of the enemy's encampment, where their cannon
was planted, and drove them from their guns, leaving them still
unmanned, knowing that other forces were following them up. Their
course was still onward until they entered on the camp-ground of the
foe and tore down the flag."
Besides those here described, there were many smaller engagements in
Missouri--at Piketon, Lancaster, Salem, Black Walnut Creek, Milford,
Hudson, and other places. There were also encounters in Florida, in
New Mexico, and in Texas; none of them being important, but all
together showing that the struggle begun this year had spread over a
vast territory and that a long and bloody war was before the people of
our country.
[Illustration: ABATIS.]
{123} [Illustration: "THE PICKET'S OFF DUTY FOREVER."]
WAR SONGS.
[Illustration]
It is probable that war songs are the oldest human compositions. In
every nation they have sprung into existence at the very dawning of
national life. The first Grecian poems of which we have any record are
war songs, chanted to inspire or maintain warlike enthusiasm. Not only
did they sing martial melodies as they attacked their enemies, but
when the conflict was over, and the victory won, they also sang
triumphal odes as they returned to camp. Martial odes that were sung
in Gaul by the conquering legions of Julius Cæsar have been handed
down to the present time. The student of the history and the
literature of Spain finds many traces of the war songs that the
all-conquering Romans sang as they marched over the mountains or
across the valleys of that then dependent nationality. And long before
the time of Cæsar, Servius Tullius ordered that two whole centuriæ
should consist of trumpeters, horn-blowers, etc., to sound the charge.
In these and subsequent ages, war songs were sung in chorus by a whole
army in advancing to the attack. If further proof of the antiquity of
military music were needed, a conclusive one is to be found in 2
Chronicles, xx. 21, where it is said that when Jehoshaphat went to
battle against the hosts of Ammon "he placed a choir of singers in
front of his army."
Wonderful indeed is the war song when studied as to its influence in
early times on history. By the power of arms, by the spirit of
conquest, did nations arise and continue to exist. The warrior made
the nation, and the poet sang and immortalized the warrior's fame; and
thus it came to pass that great honor was bestowed upon the poets.
Among old Arab tribes, fires were lighted and great rejoicings made by
their warriors {124} when a poet had manifested himself among them,
for in his songs they anticipated their own glory. In many ancient
countries, the bards that sang of battles were regarded as really
inspired, and their poetic productions were considered as the language
of the gods. Centuries passed before that admiration bestowed upon the
singer of war songs was impaired. The ancient literature of many
European countries presents numerous indications that the
warrior-poets were treated with great consideration; were forgiven by
their sovereigns for serious offences on condition that they write a
new war song, and were paid what would seem at this day enormous
prices for their compositions. It is related that on one occasion King
Athelstane, of the Anglo-Saxons, paid a poet sixteen ounces of pure
gold for a laudatory song. When the greater value of gold in that
distant age is considered, it is probable that no living poet is
better paid for his productions than was this old singer whose ballads
breathed of bloodshed and slaughter.
The marvellous influence of war songs over the ancient Norsemen is
difficult to understand. They were aroused to a high degree of
military enthusiasm, almost to madness, by the mere words of certain
songs. That it was this influence which frequently drove them onward
to great deeds, appears in every chapter of their life history. It was
the courage and frenzy aroused by Teutonic war songs that led to the
destruction of Rome, and shattered the civilization of southern
Europe.
That the influence of the war song over the minds and the hearts of
men did not terminate with the long ago past, is apparent to every
student of modern history. Garibaldi's warlike Hymn of the Italians,
the stirring "Marseillaise" of the light-hearted French, the vigorous
"Britannia" of the sturdy English, have inspired determination and
aroused courage on many a bloody battlefield. How frequently during
our own civil war was retreat checked, and the tide of battle turned,
by the singing of "We'll Rally round the Flag, Boys," started at the
opportune moment by some brave soldier with a vigorous and melodious
voice. It has been said that the Portuguese soldiers in Ceylon, at the
siege of Colombo, when pressed with misery and the pangs of hunger,
during their marches, derived not only consolation but also
encouragement from singing stanzas of their national song.
It is a singular fact that no great national hymn, and no war song
that arouses and cheers, was ever written by a distinguished poet. It
would seem that a National Hymn is the sort of material that cannot be
made to order. Not one of the best-known songs of our own civil
war--in the North or in the South--was written by an eminent poet.
Five of the greatest American poets were living during the great
conflict, and four of them gave expression to its military ardor,
determinate zeal, or pathos, but none of them so sung as to touch the
popular heart; that is to say, so as to secure the attention of those
who do not read poetry. The same is true of the composers of the
national anthems and great martial ballads of nearly every other
country. The thunder roar of the "Marseillaise," before which all the
other military songs of France are dull and weak, was produced by De
l'Isle, who lives in the memory of his countrymen and of the world for
this alone. The noble measures of "God Save the King" are not the work
of any one of the great British poets, but were probably written by
Henry Carey; but this is in dispute, and innumerable Englishmen sing
the anthem without even attempting to learn the name of the composer.
The Prussian National Anthem was not written by a Goethe, a Schiller,
or even a Köner. The name of the writer, Schneckenburger, would not be
found in books of reference had he not written "The Watch on the
Rhine." The favorite national song of the Italians, known as the
"Garibaldian Hymn," is the composition of Mercantini, of whom little
is known.
Our own country is especially fortunate in the quality of its great
national songs. "The Star Spangled Banner" breathes the loftiest and
purest patriotism. The English National Hymn is but a prayer for
blessings on the head of the king--the ruler. The "Marseillaise" is
calculated to arouse only the spirit of slaughter and bloodshed. Truer
than any of these to pure, lofty, and patriotic zeal is our own "Star
Spangled Banner."
From our Civil War we have received at least two war songs which,
simply as such, are fit to rank with the best of any country--"John
Brown's Body" and "Marching through Georgia." The greatest of the
Southern war lyrics--"My Maryland"--is equal to these as a powerful
lyric. It is said that fully two thousand poems and songs pertaining
to the war, both North and South, were written during the first year
of this conflict. But most of them are now wholly unknown, except to
the special student. Perhaps a score of compositions, the result of
the poetic outburst inspired by the Civil War, possess such merit that
they will survive through centuries as part of the literary heritage
of the nation. Of such we give in this collection about twenty that
seem to us the best and most popular.
[Illustration]
{125} NORTHERN SONGS.
TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, THE BOYS ARE MARCHING.
This is one of the numerous war songs written by Mr. George F. Root.
Among his others are "Just before the Battle, Mother," and the
"Battle-Cry of Freedom." It is difficult to say which of these three
was the most popular. There was a touch of pathos in "Just before the
Battle, Mother," which made the words impressive and thrilling to the
hearts of men away from home and fireside. Many a brave soldier
considered death itself preferable to captivity and incarceration in
prison pens. How sad, then, must have been the lot of the soldiers who
sat in prison cells and heard the "tramp, tramp, tramp," of the
marching boys! Mr. Root was the composer as well as the author of the
three great songs mentioned above.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
In the prison cell I sit,
Thinking, mother dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away;
And the tears they fill my eyes,
Spite of all that I can do,
Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.
CHORUS:
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching;
Cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag
We shall breathe the air again
Of the free-land in our own beloved home.
In the battle front we stood
When their fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more;
But before we reached their lines
They were beaten back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.
So within the prison cell
We are waiting for the day
That shall come to open wide the iron door;
And the hollow eye grows bright,
And the poor heart almost gay,
As we think of seeing home and friends once more.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{126} [Illustration]
ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC TO-NIGHT.
One cool September morning in 1861, a young woman living in Goshen,
Orange County, N. Y., read the familiar announcement from the seat of
war near Washington, "All quiet on the Potomac," to which was added in
smaller type, "A picket shot." These simple words were the inspiration
of a celebrated war song, which is as popular now as when it first
appeared. This song was first published in _Harper's Weekly_ for
November 30, 1861, and it has had many claimants; but after careful
investigation, there appears to be no reason whatever for disputing
the claim of Mrs. Ethel Lynn Beers. She died in Orange, N. J., October
10, 1879.
"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, are gleaming.
A tremulous sigh of 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 low-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.
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-by!"
The red 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!
[Illustration]
{127} THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.
Perhaps the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," by Mrs. Julia Ward Howe,
may be considered the most lofty in sentiment and the most elevated in
style of the martial songs of American patriotism. During the close of
the year 1861, Mrs. Howe with a party of friends visited Washington.
While there she attended a review of the Union troops on the Virginia
side of the Potomac and not far from the city. During her stay in camp
she witnessed a sudden and unexpected attack of the enemy. Thus she
had a glimpse of genuine warfare. On the ride back to the city the
party sang a number of war songs, including "John Brown's Body." One
of the party remarked that the tune was a grand one, and altogether
superior to the words of the song. Mrs. Howe responded to the effect
that she would endeavor to write other words that might be sung to
this stirring melody. That night, while she was lying in a dark room,
line after line and verse after verse of the "Battle Hymn of the
Republic" was composed. In this way every verse of the song was
carefully thought out. Then, springing from the bed, she found a pen
and piece of paper and wrote out the words of this rousing patriotic
hymn. It was often sung in the course of the war and under a great
variety of circumstances.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are
stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I have read His righteous sentence in the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;"
Let the hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER.
With the English soldiers a popular song in war times is the well
known "Annie Laurie." It is said that during the Crimean War this
sentimental ditty was sung by the English forces more frequently than
any other melody. Several songs of similar sentimentality were famous
on both sides during the civil war. The boys in gray sang "Lorena" at
the very beginning of the war, and never stopped till the last musket
was stacked, and the last campfire cold. The boys in blue sang
"Mother, I've Come Home to Die," "Just before the Battle, Mother,"
"When this Cruel War is Over," and other songs of sentiment and
affection. "When this Cruel War is Over" was written by Charles C.
Sawyer, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and was published in the autumn of 1861.
More than one million copies of the song have been sold. Some of the
other compositions by Mr. Sawyer are "Swinging in the Lane" and
"Peeping through the Bars."
Dearest love, do you remember
When we last did meet,
How you told me that you loved me,
Kneeling at my feet?
Oh, how proud you stood before me,
In your suit of blue,
When you vowed to me and country
Ever to be true!
Weeping, sad and lonely,
Hopes and fears, how vain;
Yet praying
When this cruel war is over,
Praying that we meet again.
When the summer breeze is sighing
Mournfully along,
Or when autumn leaves are falling,
Sadly breathes the song.
Oft in dreams I see you lying
On the battle-plain,
Lonely, wounded, even dying,
Calling, but in vain.
If, amid the din of battle,
Nobly you should fall,
Far away from those who love you,
None to hear you call,
Who would whisper words of comfort?
Who would soothe your pain?
Ah, the many cruel fancies
Ever in my brain!
But our country called you, darling,
Angels cheer your way!
While our nation's sons are fighting,
We can only pray.
Nobly strike for God and liberty,
Let all nations see
How we love the starry banner,
Emblem of the free!
{128} WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRAHAM.
In the dark days of 1862 President Lincoln issued a proclamation
asking for three hundred thousand volunteers to fill the stricken
ranks of the army, and to make the cry of "On to Richmond" an
accomplished fact. Immediately after this call, Mr. James Sloane
Gibbons, a native of Wilmington, Del., living in New York City, wrote:
"We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more."
This must have contributed largely to the accomplishment of the
military uprising which it relates. The stanzas were first published
anonymously in the New York _Evening Post_ of July 16, 1862. Owing to
this fact, perhaps, its authorship was at first attributed to William
C. Bryant. Mr. Gibbons joined the abolition movement when only twenty
years of age, and was for a time one of the editors of the
_Anti-Slavery Standard_. When the Emancipation Proclamation was
issued, he illuminated his residence in New York City. A short time
afterward, during the draft riots, he was mobbed, and only by the
assistance of friends was he able to save his life by escaping over
the roofs of adjoining houses to another street, where a friend had a
carriage waiting for him. He died October 17, 1892.
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before:
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky,
Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;
And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,
And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride;
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour:
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
If you look all up our valleys where the growing harvests shine,
You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast falling into line;
And children from their mother's knees are pulling at the weeds,
And learning how to reap and sow, against their country's needs;
And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door:
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
You have called us, and we're coming, by Richmond's bloody tide,
To lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside;
Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade.
Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before:
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{129} MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA.
All the great songs of the civil war, with one exception, were written
during the first year of the conflict. This exception is "Marching
through Georgia." It was written to commemorate one of the most
remarkable campaigns of the war. Now that the war has been over for
nearly thirty years, and the old soldier has no military duty more
serious than fighting his battles o'er again, "Marching through
Georgia" has become the song dearest to his heart. At the annual
encampments of the Grand Army of the Republic, and at numerous
meetings of the members of the Grand Army posts, the writer has heard
this sung more frequently than any other. The words were composed by
Mr. Henry C. Work, author of many well-known songs. Among the other
best known of his patriotic lyrics are "Grafted into the Army" and
"Kingdom Come." Mr. Work was born in Middletown, Conn., October 1,
1832. When he was very young his father removed to Illinois. He was an
inventor as well as a song writer, and among his successful inventions
are a knitting machine, a walking doll, and a rotary engine. He died
in Hartford, June 8, 1884.
Bring me the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song--
Sing it with that spirit that will start the world along--
Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia.
CHORUS:
"Hurrah, hurrah! we bring the Jubilee!
Hurrah, hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
How the darkies shouted when they heard the joyful sound!
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found!
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground!
While we were marching through Georgia.
Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honored flag they hadn't seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking out in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a handsome boast;
Had they not forgotten, alas! to reckon with the host,
While we were marching through Georgia?
So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train,
Sixty miles in latitude--three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain,
While we were marching through Georgia.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{130} [Illustration: PRAYER IN "STONEWALL" JACKSON'S CAMP.]
{131} SOUTHERN SONGS.
DIXIE.
The tune "Dixie" was composed in 1859, by Mr. Dan D. Emmett, for
Bryant's Minstrels, then performing in New York City. It hit the taste
of the New York play-going public, and was adopted at once by various
bands of wandering minstrels, who sang it in all parts of the Union.
In 1860 it was first sung in New Orleans. In that city the tune was
harmonized, set to new words, and, without the authority of the
composer, was published. As from Boston "John Brown's Body" spread
through the North, so from New Orleans "Dixie" spread through the
South; and as Northern poets strove to find fitting words for the one,
so Southern poets wrote fiery lines to fill the measures of the other.
The only version possessing any literary merit is the one given in
this collection. It was written by Gen. Albert Pike, a native of
Massachusetts. In early life Mr. Pike moved to Little Rock, Ark.,
editing a paper and studying law in that city. He served in the
Mexican war with distinction, and on the breaking out of the Rebellion
enlisted on the Confederate side a force of Cherokee Indians, whom he
led at the battle of Pea Ridge. It is said that President Lincoln
requested a band in Washington to play "Dixie" in 1865, a short time
after the surrender of Appomattox, remarking "that, as we had captured
the rebel army, we had captured also the rebel tune."
[Illustration: BRIGADIER-GENERAL ALBERT PIKE, C. S. A.]
Southrons, hear your country call you!
Up, lest worse than death befall you!
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted--
Let hearts be now united.
To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie!
Hurrah! hurrah!
For Dixie's land we take our stand,
And live or die for Dixie!
To arms! To arms!
And conquer peace for Dixie!
To arms! To arms!
And conquer peace for Dixie!
Hear the Northern thunders mutter!
Northern flags in South winds flutter.
Send them back your fierce defiance;
Stamp upon the accursed alliance.
Fear no danger! Shun no labor!
Lift up rifle, pike, and sabre.
Shoulder pressing close to shoulder,
Let the odds make each heart bolder.
How the South's great heart rejoices
At your cannons' ringing voices!
For faith betrayed, and pledges broken,
Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken.
Strong as lions, swift as eagles,
Back to their kennels hunt these beagles!
Cut the unequal bonds asunder;
Let them hence each other plunder!
Swear upon your country's altar
Never to submit or falter,
Till the spoilers are defeated,
Till the Lord's work is completed.
Halt not till our Federation
Secures among earth's powers its station.
Then at peace, and crowned with glory,
Hear your children tell the story.
If the loved ones weep in sadness,
Victory soon shall bring them gladness,
Exultant pride soon banish sorrow,
Smiles chase tears away to-morrow.
MY MARYLAND.
"My Maryland" is regarded by some as the greatest song inspired by the
civil war, and if we consider these songs as poems it is the best. Its
burning lines, written early in 1861, helped to fire the Southern
heart. Its author, Mr. James Ryder Randall, is a native of Baltimore.
He was professor of English literature in Poydras College in
Louisiana, a short distance from New Orleans, and there in April,
1861, he read the news of the attack on the Massachusetts troops as
they passed through Baltimore. Naturally he was greatly excited on
reading this account, and it inspired the song, which was written
within twenty-four hours of the time he read of the assault. "My
Maryland" is one of a number of songs written by Mr. Randall, but none
of the others attained popularity. His "John Pelham," commonly called
"The Dead Cannonneer," is a much finer poem. After the war he became
editor of the _Constitutionalist_, published in Augusta, Ga., in which
city he still resides.
The despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle-queen of yore,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Hark to an exiled son's appeal,
Maryland!
My Mother State, to thee I kneel,
Maryland!
For life and death, for woe and weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Thou wilt not cower in the dust,
Maryland!
Thy beaming sword shall never rust,
Maryland!
Remember Carroll's sacred trust,
Remember Howard's warlike thrust,
And all thy slumberers with the just,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day,
Maryland!
Come with thy panoplied array,
Maryland!
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray,
With Watson's blood at Monterey,
With fearless Lowe and dashing May,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Dear Mother, burst the tyrant's chain,
Maryland!
Virginia should not call in vain,
Maryland! {132}
She meets her sisters on the plain,--
"_Sic semper!_" 'tis the proud refrain
That baffles minions back amain,
Maryland!
Arise in majesty again,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Come! for thy shield is bright and strong,
Maryland!
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,
Maryland!
Come to thine own heroic throng
Stalking with Liberty along,
And chant thy dauntless slogan-song,
Maryland, my Maryland!
I see the blush upon thy cheek,
Maryland!
For thou wast ever bravely meek,
Maryland!
But lo! there surges forth a shriek,
From hill to hill, from creek to creek,
Potomac calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll,
Maryland!
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
Maryland!
Better the fire upon thee roll,
Better the shot, the blade, the bowl,
Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland, my Maryland!
I hear the distant thunder-hum,
Maryland!
The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum,
Maryland!
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb;
Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum--
She breathes! She burns! She'll come! She'll come!
Maryland, my Maryland!
REBELS.
First published in the Atlanta _Confederacy_. The author is unknown.
Rebels! 'tis a holy name!
The name our fathers bore
When battling in the cause of Right,
Against the tyrant in his might,
In the dark days of yore.
Rebels! 'tis our family name!
Our father, Washington,
Was the arch-rebel in the fight,
And gave the name to us--a right
Of father unto son.
Rebels! 'tis our given name!
Our mother, Liberty,
Received the title with her fame,
In days of grief, of fear, and shame,
When at her breast were we.
Rebels! 'tis our sealed name!
A baptism of blood!
The war--ay, and the din of strife--
The fearful contest, life for life--
The mingled crimson flood.
Rebels! 'tis a patriot's name!
In struggles it was given;
We bore it then when tyrants raved,
And through their curses 'twas engraved
On the doomsday-book of heaven.
Rebels! 'tis our fighting name!
For peace rules o'er the land
Until they speak of craven woe,
Until our rights receive a blow
From foe's or brother's hand.
Rebels! 'tis our dying name!
For although life is dear,
Yet, freemen born and freemen bred,
We'd rather live as freemen dead,
Than live in slavish fear.
Then call us rebels, if you will--
We glory in the name;
For bending under unjust laws,
And swearing faith to an unjust cause,
We count a greater shame.
CALL ALL.
This Southern war song, which was first published in the Rockingham,
Va., _Register_ in 1861, became quite popular with the boys in gray.
It is published here because of its peculiarities rather than on
account of its literary merit.
Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose,
Roaring round like the very deuce!
Lice of Egypt, a hungry pack--
After 'em, boys, and drive 'em back.
Bull-dog, terrier, cur, and fice,
Back to the beggarly land of ice;
Worry 'em, bite 'em, scratch and tear
Everybody and everywhere.
Old Kentucky is caved from under,
Tennessee is split asunder,
Alabama awaits attack,
And Georgia bristles up her back.
Old John Brown is dead and gone!
Still his spirit is marching on--
Lantern-jawed, and legs, my boys,
Long as an ape's from Illinois!
Want a weapon? Gather a brick,
Club or cudgel, or stone or stick;
Anything with a blade or butt,
Anything that can cleave or cut;
Anything heavy, or hard, or keen--
Any sort of slaying machine!
Anything with a willing mind
And the steady arm of a man behind.
Want a weapon? Why, capture one!
Every Doodle has got a gun,
Belt, and bayonet, bright and new;
Kill a Doodle, and capture two!
Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire!
All, call all! to the feast of fire!
Mother and maiden, and child and slave,
A common triumph or a single grave.
{133} THE BLACK FLAG.
The raising of the black flag means death without quarter. It means
that prisoners taken should be slaughtered at once. It is contrary to
the spirit of modern warfare. General Sherman, in his celebrated
letter to the Mayor of Atlanta, says, "War is cruelty, and you cannot
refine it." War arouses the fiercest, most tiger-like passions of
mankind. Were it not so, the poet who wrote "The Mountain of the
Lovers" could never have written "The Black Flag." Paul Hamilton Hayne
was born in Charleston, S. C., in 1830. He abandoned the practice of
law for literary pursuits. He contributed to the _Southern Literary
Messenger_, and for a while edited the Charleston _Literary Gazette_.
He entered the Southern army at the outbreak of the civil war, and
served until obliged to resign by failing health. His house and all
his personal property were destroyed at the bombardment of Charleston.
He wrote extensively both in poetry and prose.
Like the roar of the wintry surges on a wild, tempestuous strand,
The voice of the maddened millions comes up from an outraged land;
For the cup of our woe runs over, and the day of our grace is past,
And Mercy has fled to the angels, and Hatred is king at last!
CHORUS:
Then up with the sable banner!
Let it thrill to the War God's breath,
For we march to the watchword--Vengeance!
And we follow the captain--Death!
In the gloom of the gory breaches, on the ramparts wrapped in flame,
'Mid the ruined homesteads, blackened by a hundred deeds of shame;
Wheresoever the vandals rally, and the bands of the alien meet,
We will crush the heads of the hydra with the stamp of our armed
feet.
They have taught us a fearful lesson! 'tis burned on our hearts in
fire,
And the souls of a host of heroes leap with a fierce desire;
And we swear by all that is sacred, and we swear by all that is
pure,
That the crafty and cruel dastards shall ravage our homes no more.
We will roll the billows or battle back, back on the braggart foe,
Till his leaguered and stricken cities shall quake with a coward's
throe;
They shall compass the awful meaning of the conflict their lust
begun,
When the Northland rings with wailing, and the grand old cause hath
won.
LORENA.
This doleful and pathetic song of affection was very popular among the
Confederate soldiers. It started at the start, and never stopped till
the last musket was stacked and the last camp-fire cold. It was,
without doubt, the song nearest the Confederate soldier's heart. It
was the "Annie Laurie" of the Confederate trenches.
"Each heart recalled a different name,
But all _sang_ 'Annie Laurie.'"
* * * * *
The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the grass again;
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,
And frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the _heart_ throbs on as warmly now
As when the summer days were nigh.
Oh! the sun can never dip so low
Adown _affection's_ cloudless sky.
One hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine;
I felt that pulse beat fast, Lorena,
But mine beat faster still than thine.
One hundred months! 'Twas flowery May,
When up the mountain slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the merry church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well--
But then, 'tis past, the years have flown;
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on--
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms."
It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is the eternal past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
But there's a future, oh! thank God--
Of life this is so small a part,
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;
But _there_, up _there_, 'tis _heart_ to _heart_.
[Illustration]
{134} OLD FOLKS AT HOME.
Mr. F. G. de Fontaine, a celebrated Southern war correspondent, writes
that the most popular songs with the soldiers of the Confederate
armies were negro melodies, such as "Old Folks at Home" and "My Old
Kentucky Home." This is our reason for publishing the pacific and
kindly words of the most celebrated negro melody, among songs that
breathe threatening and slaughter. It is not difficult to understand
why such songs were popular with men raised in the South. They would
bring forcibly to mind the distant home, and the dear associations of
early life on the old plantations. "Old Folks at Home" was written by
Stephen Collins Foster. He wrote between two and three hundred popular
songs--more than any other American. Among the most familiar of his
compositions are "Old Uncle Ned," "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground,"
"Old Dog Tray," and "My Old Kentucky Home." Mr. Foster was finely
educated, was proficient in French and German, was an amateur painter
of ability, and a talented musician. It is said that he received
fifteen thousand dollars for "Old Folks at Home."
[Illustration: STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER.]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Way down upon de Swanee ribber,
Far, far away,
Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
Dere's wha de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for de old plantation,
And for de old folks at home.
{135} CHORUS:
All de world am sad and dreary,
Ebrywhere I roam;
Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home!
All round de little farm I wandered
When I was young;
Den many happy days I squandered,
Many de songs I sung.
When I was playing wid my brudder,
Happy was I;
Oh, take me to my kind old mudder!
Dere let me live and die.
One little hut among de bushes,
One dat I love,
Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
No matter where I rove.
When will I see de bees a-humming
All round de comb?
When will I hear de banjo tumming,
Down in my good old home?
CHORUS:
All de world am sad and dreary,
Ebrywhere I roam;
Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{136} THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.
The most popular war songs of the South were "Dixie" and "The Bonnie
Blue Flag." Like "Dixie," the "Bonnie Blue Flag" began its popular
career in New Orleans. The words were written by an Irish comedian,
Mr. Harry McCarthy, and the song was first sung by his sister, Miss
Marion McCarthy, at the Variety Theatre in New Orleans in 1861. The
tune is an old and popular Irish melody, "The Irish Jaunting Car." It
is said that General Butler, when he was commander of the National
forces in New Orleans in 1862, made it very profitable by fining every
man, woman, or child, who sang, whistled, or played this tune on any
instrument, twenty-five dollars. It has also been said that he
arrested the publisher, destroyed the stock of sheet music, and fined
him five hundred dollars.
We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil,
Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil;
And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far:
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star!
Hurrah! hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!
As long as the Union was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and like brothers, kind were we and just;
But now when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand;
Then came Alabama, who took her by the hand;
Next, quickly Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida--
All raised the flag, the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
Ye men of valor, gather round the banner of the right;
Texas and fair Louisiana join us in the fight.
Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, statesmen are;
Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
And here's to brave Virginia! The Old Dominion State
With the young Confederacy at length has linked her fate.
Impelled by her example, now other States prepare
To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
Then here's to our Confederacy! Strong we are and brave;
Like patriots of old we'll fight, our heritage to save;
And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer,
So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
Then cheer, boys, cheer, raise the joyous shout,
For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given,
The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven.
Hurrah! hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!
NORTHERN SONGS.
JOHN BROWN'S BODY.
John Brown was hanged in December, 1859, and a little more than a year
after this time the celebrated marching-tune, "John Brown's Body,"
came into being. It is a singular fact that the composer of the
stirring and popular air of this song is unknown. Possibly it had no
composer, but, like Topsy, "it was not born, but just growed." This
seems to be the most reasonable theory of its origin. The words of the
song, as given in this collection, with the exception of the first
stanza, were written by Charles S. Hall, of Charlestown, Mass. "John
Brown's Body" was the most popular war song among the Northern
soldiers on the march and around the campfire. In fact, it became the
marching song of the armies of the Nation. It was equally popular in
the cities, villages, and homes of the North. The _Pall Mall Gazette_,
of October 14, 1865, said: "The street boys of London have decided in
favor of 'John Brown's Body' against 'My Maryland' and 'The Bonnie
Blue Flag.' The somewhat lugubrious refrain has excited their
admiration to a wonderful degree."
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave;
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave;
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave;
His soul is marching on.
Glory, halle--hallelujah! Glory, halle--hallelujah!
Glory, halle--hallelujah!
His soul is marching on!
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord! (_thrice_.)
His soul is marching on!
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back! (_thrice_.)
His soul is marching on!
His pet lambs will meet him on the way; (_thrice_.)
As they go marching on!
They will hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree! (_thrice_.)
As they march along!
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union! (_thrice_.)
As we are marching on!
Glory; halle--hallelujah! Glory, halle--hallelujah!
Glory, halle--hallelujah!
Hip, hip, hip, hip, hurrah!
WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME.
Another army song that became almost as popular in England as in this
country is "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." It was written and
composed by Mr. Patrick S. Gilmore, leader of the celebrated Gilmore's
Band. The words do not amount to much, but the tune is of that
rollicking order which is very catching. Without doubt the author
built up the words of this song to suit the air, on the same principle
that in Georgia they build a chimney first and erect the house against
it. This rattling war song has kept its hold on the ears of the people
to the present time. Mr. Gilmore afterward composed an ambitious
national hymn which has never attained the popularity of his war song.
When Johnny comes marching home again,
Hurrah! hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then,
Hurrah! hurrah!
The men will cheer, the hays will shout,
The ladies they will all turn out,
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
The men will cheer, the boys will shout,
The ladies they will all turn out,
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
The old church-bell will peal with joy,
Hurrah! hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy,
Hurrah! hurrah! {137}
The village lads and lasses say,
With roses they will strew the way;
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
Get ready for the jubilee,
Hurrah! hurrah!
We'll give the hero three times three,
Hurrah! hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow;
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
Let love and friendship on that day,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Their choicest treasures then display,
Hurrah! hurrah!
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart;
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
The men will cheer, the boys will shout,
The ladies they will all turn out,
And we'll all feel gay,
When Johnny comes marching home.
GRAFTED INTO THE ARMY.
BY HENRY C. WORK.
Our Jimmy has gone to live in a tent,
They have grafted him into the army;
He finally puckered up courage and went,
When they grafted him into the army.
I told them the child was too young--alas!
At the captain's forequarters they said he would pass--
They'd train him up well in the infantry class--
So they grafted him into the army.
CHORUS:
O Jimmy, farewell! Your brothers fell
Way down in Alabarmy;
I thought they would spare a lone widder's heir,
But they grafted him into the army.
Drest up in his unicorn--dear little chap!
They have grafted him into the army;
It seems but a day since he sot on my lap,
But they have grafted him into the army.
And these are the trousies he used to wear--
Them very same buttons--the patch and the tear--
But Uncle Sam gave him a bran new pair
When they grafted him into the army.
Now in my provisions I see him revealed--
They have grafted him into the army;
A picket beside the contented field,
They have grafted him into the army.
He looks kinder sickish--begins to cry--
A big volunteer standing right in his eye!
Oh, what if the duckie should up and die,
Now they've grafted him into the army!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{138} THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM.
George F. Root was born in Sheffield, Mass., August 30, 1820, and he
was the founder of the music-publishing firm of Root & Cady. His
celebrated "Battle Cry of Freedom" was first sung by the Hutchinson
family at a mass meeting in New York City. It is said that during the
terrible fight in the Wilderness, on May 6, 1864, a brigade of the
Ninth Corps, having broken the enemy's line by an assault, became
exposed to a flank attack and was driven back in disorder with heavy
loss. They retreated but a few hundred yards, however, re-formed, and
again confronted the enemy. Just then some gallant fellows in the
ranks of the Forty-fifth Pennsylvania began to sing:
"We'll rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom."
The refrain was caught up instantly by the entire regiment and by the
Thirty-sixth Massachusetts, next in line. There the grim ranks stood
at bay in the deadly conflict. The air was filled with the smoke and
crackle of burning underbrush, the pitiful cries of the wounded, the
rattle of musketry, and shouts of men; but above all, over the
exultant yells of the enemy, rose the inspiring chorus:
"The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitor, up with the star."
This song was often ordered to be sung as the men marched into action.
More than once its strains arose on the battlefield. With the humor
which never deserts the American, even amid the hardships of camp life
and the dangers of battle, the gentle lines of "Mary Had a Little
Lamb" were fitted to the tune of the "Battle Cry of Freedom," and many
a regiment shortened a weary march, or went gayly into action,
singing:
"Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom."
* * * * *
Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitor, up with the star;
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
We are springing to the call of our brothers gone before,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a million freemen more,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
We will welcome to our numbers the loyal true and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And although they may be poor, not a man shall be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
So we're springing to the call from the East and from the West,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitor, up with the star;
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
[Illustration]
{139} TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP-GROUND.
The author of "Tenting on the Old Camp-Ground" is Walter Kittridge,
who was born in the town of Merrimac, N. H., October 8, 1832. He was a
public singer and a composer, as well as a writer of popular songs and
ballads. In the first year of the civil war he published a small
original "Union Song-Book." In 1862 he was drafted, and while
preparing to go to the front he wrote in a few minutes both words and
music of "Tenting on the Old Camp-Ground." Like many other good things
in literature, this song was at first refused publication. But when it
was published, its sale reached hundreds of thousands of copies.
We're tenting to-night on the old camp-ground,
Give us a song to cheer
Our weary hearts, a song of home
And friends we love so dear.
CHORUS:
Many are the hearts that are weary to-night,
Wishing for the war to cease;
Many are the hearts looking for the right,
To see the dawn of peace;
Tenting to-night, tenting to-night,
Tenting on the old camp-ground.
We've been tenting to-night on the old camp-ground,
Thinking of the days gone by;
Of the loved ones at home, that gave us the hand,
And the tear that said, Good-by!
We are tired of war on the old camp-ground;
Many are dead and gone
Of the brave and true who've left their homes;
Others have been wounded long.
We've been fighting to-day on the old camp-ground;
Many are lying near;
Some are dead, and some are dying,
Many are in tears!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
{140}