THE hallowed notes of church chimes awakened us on our first morning
in Shepherdstown and before the day was an hour older we felt grateful
to the motor for compelling our stop-over in this quaint community.
Geographically Shepherdstown is in West Virginia, but politically,
socially and traditionally it leans toward the Old Dominion. It lies
in Jefferson county at the foot of the beautiful Shenandoah valley
and is essentially southern. Its whole atmosphere and the sympathy
of its people belong distinctly to Piedmont Virginia. It is the
Alsace-Lorraine of America.
Next to Alexandria, Shepherdstown is perhaps the oldest important
settlement in the Potomac valley. It is one of the few old towns in the
country that has not been defaced by too much present day progress.
Shepherdstown has always been a substantial prosperous place and does
not affect the gewgaws of the new rich municipality. In some respects
it resembles Concord, Massachusetts. Its streets have many features
in common with the thoroughfares of the old-time New England towns.
In many of the residences are preserved some of the most striking
characteristics of chaste colonial architecture.
It was a restful place to spend Sunday and in the evening we joined
the villagers in a stroll through the shady streets and out on the
bluff overlooking the Potomac. Here on the edge of the cliffs on a
natural base of limestone rock is an imposing shaft lately erected
to the memory of James Rumsey, Shepherdstown pioneer and inventor of
the steamboat. Rumsey, you know, was the Langley of steam navigation.
While Prof. Langley originated the idea of the heavier than air system
of aeronautic transportation, his aeroplane, upon which experiments
were made on this same Potomac river, was not perfected to the point
of standing the practical test. Two bicycle mechanics in Dayton, Ohio,
were destined to make a crowning achievement where the scientist had
failed. Posterity will demand that the Wright brothers share their fame
with Langley.
[Illustration: Antietam Battlefield at Dunker Church (right) and
Cornfield (left) Across Hagerstown Pike]
Although Robert Fulton is popularly credited with the invention of
the steamboat, he only perfected the work which was started by Rumsey
in the waters of the Potomac at Shepherdstown in September, 1784. In
the presence of George Washington a boat which ascended the stream by
mechanical appliances was exhibited by Rumsey 23 years before Fulton's
Clermont made its memorable voyage on the Hudson.
The house in which Rumsey lived is one of the historic landmarks of
Shepherdstown. The inventor went to Europe and built a new boat which
made a successful trip on the Thames in December, 1792. A few weeks
later sudden death in the very prime of life cut short Rumsey's career.
In the Civil War Shepherdstown endured the agony but shared little of
the glory of battle. It is about eight miles north of Harper's Ferry
and less than four miles west of Antietam. Skirmishes took place here
early in the war and in September, 1862, it saw Stonewall Jackson's
famous foot cavalry sprint through this corner of Jefferson county in
his encircling movement for the capture of Harper's Ferry. A week later
echoes of the guns engaged in the bloody work at Antietam reverberated
against the hills around Shepherdstown and on the afternoon of that
17th day of September hundreds of mutilated men were carried into the
village and committed to the care of the townspeople.
The wounded were Confederate soldiers and from the majority of homes in
Shepherdstown had gone fathers, sons, brothers to fight under Lee or
Jackson. Marie Blunt, one of the heroic women who assisted caring for
the wounded, in describing that melancholy day, said:
"We went about our work with pale faces and trembling hands, yet trying
to appear composed for the sake of our patients, who were much excited.
We could hear the incessant explosions of artillery, the shrieking
whistling of the shells, and the sharper, deadlier, more thrilling roll
of musketry: while every now and then the echo of some charging cheer
would come, borne by the wind, and as the human voice pierced that
demoniacal clangor we would catch our breath and listen, and try not to
sob, and turn back to forlorn hospitals, to the suffering at our feet
and before our eyes, while imagination fainted at the thought of those
other scenes hidden from us beyond the Potomac.
"On our side of the river there were noise, confusion, dust; throngs
of stragglers; horsemen galloping about; wagons blocking each other,
and teamsters wrangling; and a continued din of shouting, swearing
and rumbling, in the midst of which men were dying, fresh wounded
arriving, surgeons amputating limbs and dressing wounds, women going in
and out with bandages, lint, medicines, food. An everpresent sense of
anguish, dread, pity, and, I fear, hatred--these are my recollections
of Antietam."
* * * * *
LEAVING our invalid motor in care of a garage mechanic we boarded a
Norfolk & Western train Monday morning to visit Antietam battlefield.
It is a ride of less than 10 minutes from Shepherdstown to the station
of Antietam which is adjacent to the village of Sharpsburg. The half a
century that has passed since the war has witnessed but slight change
here. Nearly all the houses are of the antebellum type. The woods
have been cleared at various places over the field, but otherwise the
landscape has changed but little when compared with wartime photographs
and sketches of the battle.
A walk through the town and the national cemetery brought us to the
Hagerstown pike which parallels the battle lines on the northern half
of the field. Threatening weather called for haste and I was obliged
to forego the pleasure of a ramble to familiar scenes around the
picturesque Burnside bridge which I had photographed 11 years before.
We were interested in two parts of the field--the line of Anderson's
Confederate division and the position occupied by Hooker on the Union
right. In locating the former we soon found ourselves in Piper's lane
and walked down to the gray stone barn which stands as solid today as
on that Wednesday afternoon when Hill and Sumner struggled for the
mastery of this blood-drenched farmstead.
Less than a mile beyond is the little whitewashed Dunker church which
marks the key to Stonewall Jackson's position. It stands in the woods
at the west side of the Hagerstown pike at the intersection of the
Smoketown road. On the east side of the pike was the famous cornfield
where the Union soldiers under Hooker and Mansfield engaged in deadly
combat with Jackson's men. In an area covering a few acres the losses
on both sides in less than four hours' fighting on the morning of
September 17th probably exceeded 5,000 killed and wounded.
All the important positions occupied by the troops on both sides
have been marked by tablets erected by the Federal government and
many memorials have been placed by the various states. One of the
most interesting monuments is that of the State of Maryland to her
sons--Union and Confederate--who perished at Antietam. It stands on a
knoll a short distance east of the pike opposite the Dunker church.
At 11 o'clock on Tuesday morning, July 25, our motor having been
pronounced "cured," we slipped "Sometub's" moorings and after adieus to
hospitable friends in Shepherdstown, started on the second half of our
journey. A mile and a half below the town we passed the ford over which
Lee's army retreated from Antietam and saw the cliff where the Corn
Exchange regiment came to grief in its pursuit of the Confederates.
A little farther on we noted what we supposed was the site of Camp
McAuley where the One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania regiment
from Pittsburgh spent many a chilly bivouac in the autumn of 1862.
The scenery on the canal between Shepherdstown and Harper's Ferry is
not rivaled anywhere in the country for its variety, abounding in
pastoral beauty, historic interest and sublime grandeur. Our motor,
being on its good behavior, the trip was uneventful. Across the river
among the trees we descried the little hamlet of Falling Waters where
occurred one of the first conflicts of the Civil War. We glided over
Antietam creek through a picturesque aqueduct and continued for miles
on through the trees at the base of the lofty cliffs of Maryland
Heights.
After several stops to catch the pictures that presented themselves at
every turn, we reached the lock opposite Harper's Ferry about 4 o'clock
in the afternoon. We threw "Sometub's" line to a picket fence beside
the canal and hastened across to the town to call at the postoffice to
receive an accumulation of 10 days' mail that had been forwarded from
point to point all the way from Hancock.
This is a late day to describe Harper's Ferry. Thomas Jefferson more
than 100 years ago wrote a description of the place and stole the
thunder from his successors for all time to come. In October, 1859, old
John Brown in a different manner gave fresh fame to the locality, and
on a gallows over the hills at Charles Town paid the penalty with his
life. Harper's Ferry got into the headlines soon after Fort Sumter was
fired upon and kept in the limelight till the very close of the war.
Since that time the Baltimore and Ohio railroad has appropriated the
old town, mountains, rivers, scenery, historic associations and all and
has overlooked no opportunity to exploit its beauty and its traditions.
We had expected to have a veritable field day here with our camera,
but when we came from the postoffice clouds rolled down from the
mountains like great avalanches of snowy feathers, the village grew
misty and rain began to fall. With no immediate prospect of clear
weather we decided to continue our voyage. It would be heresy, however,
not to present a picture of Harper's Ferry, and we are indebted to
Mr. J. Hampton Baumgartner, of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, for
the one presented here. The railroad has acted the pious antiquarian
in preserving this historic shrine and the fame of the sacred spot is
perpetuated largely through the services of this corporation. Railroads
more frequently are ruthless vandals in their treatment of historic
landmarks, but not so with the Baltimore and Ohio. This portion of the
railroad is itself a talisman of history worthy of every patriotic
American's interest and study.
[Illustration: Harper's Ferry, from Maryland Heights]
Rain was falling in torrents when we unleashed "Sometub" from the
picket fence and started through the lock. By the time the one-armed
locktender had opened the gates and we chugged out under the Baltimore
and Ohio bridge at the entrance of the Maryland Heights tunnel the
storm had grown to the proportions of a cloudburst. We found ourselves
in a canyon of concrete with a sharp curve ahead. It was a perilous
place to meet a canal boat and we continued on through the blinding
storm. At the end of the canyon we moored to the towpath bank for a
time, but with darkness approaching and the rain continuing unabated,
we resolved to resume the voyage.
At dusk we reached Brunswick. Everything above board on the boat,
including ourselves was drenched. Scrambling out on the towpath I waded
through the mud to inquire of the locktender for a place to tie up.
Despite the rain, we had decided to spend the night on "Sometub." We
had become so attached to the little craft by this time that it seemed
like ingratitude to go to a comfortable hotel and leave it out there in
the storm and the night.
But this was not to be.