SEVEN PINES AND FAIROAKS.
Returning from White House on Saturday, May 29, I heard the cannon of
"Seven Pines." The roar of artillery came faintly upon the ear in the
dells and woods, but in the open stretches of country, or from cleared
hill-tops, I could hear also the volleys of musketry. It was the battle
sound that assured me of bloody work; for the musket, as I had learned
by experience, was the only certain signification of battle. It is
seldom brought into requisition but at close quarters, when results are
intended; whereas, cannon may peal for a fortnight, and involve no other
destruction than that of shell and powder. I do not think that any throb
of my heart was unattended by some volley or discharge. Dull, hoarse,
uninterrupted, the whole afternoon was shaken by the sound. It was with
a shudder that I thought how every peal announced flesh and bone riven
asunder. The country people, on the way, stood in their side yards,
anxiously listening. Riders or teamsters coming from the field, were
beset with inquiries; but in the main they knew nothing. As I stopped at
Daker's for dinner, the concussion of the battle rattled our plates, and
the girls entirely lost their appetites, so that Glumley, who listened
and speculated, observed that the baby face was losing all the lines of
art, and was quite flat and faded in color. Resuming our way, we
encountered a sallow, shabby person, driving a covered wagon, who
recognized me at once. It was the "Doctor" who had lightened the
journey down the Chesapeake, by a discourse upon embalming. He pointed
toward the field with a long bony finger, and called aloud, with a smirk
upon his face--
"I have the apparatus here, you see. They will need me out yonder, you
know. There's opportunity there for the development of the 'system.'"
I did not reach my own camp at Gaines's Farm, till late in the day. The
firing had almost entirely ceased, but occasional discharges still broke
the repose of evening, and at night signal rockets hissed and showered
in every direction. Next day the contest recommenced; but although not
farther in a direct line, than seven miles, from our encampment, I could
not cross the Chickahominy, and was compelled to lie in my tent all day.
These two battles were offered by the Confederates, in the hope of
capturing that portion of the Federal army that lay upon the Richmond
side of the river. Some days previously, McClellan had ordered Keyes's
corps, consisting of perhaps twelve thousand men, to cross Bottom
Bridge, eight miles down the Chickahominy, and occupy an advanced
position on the York River railroad, six miles east of Richmond. Keyes's
two divisions, commanded by Generals Couch and Casey, were thus encamped
in a belt of woods remote from the body of the army, and little more
than a mile from the enemy's line. Heintzelman's corps was lying at the
Bridge, several miles in their rear, and the three finest corps in the
army were separated from them by a broad, rapid river, which could be
crossed at two places only. The troops of Keyes were mainly
inexperienced, undisciplined volunteers from the Middle States. When
their adversaries advanced, therefore, in force, on the twenty-ninth
instant, they made a fitful, irregular resistance, and at evening
retired in panic and disorder. The victorious enemy followed them so
closely, that many of the Federals were slain in their tents. During
that night, the Chickahominy, swollen by rains, overflowed its banks,
and swept away the bridges. The beaten and disorganized relic of the
fight of "Seven Pines," was thus completely isolated, and apparently to
be annihilated at daybreak. But during the night, twenty thousand fresh
men of Sumner's corps, forded the river, carrying their artillery, piece
by piece across, and at dawn they assumed the offensive, seconded by the
encouraged columns of Keyes. The fight was one of desperation; at night
the Federals reoccupied their old ground at Fairoaks, and the
Confederates retired, leaving their dead and wounded on the field. They
lost, among their prisoners, General Pettigrew, of South Carolina, who
was severely wounded, and with whom I talked as he lay in bed at
Gaines's Mansion. He appeared to be a chivalrous, gossipy old gentleman,
and said that he was the last South Carolinian to stand by the Union.
On the succeeding day, Monday, June 2, I rode to "Grape-Vine Bridge,"
and attempted to force my horse through the swamp and stream; but the
drowned mules that momentarily floated down the current, admonished me
of the folly of the hazard. The bridge itself was a swimming mass of
poles and logs, that yielded with every pressure; yet I saw many wounded
men, who waded through the water, or stepped lightly from log to log,
and so gained the shore, wet from head to foot. Long lines of supply
teams and ambulances were wedged in the depth of the thick wood,
bordering the river; but so narrow were the corduroy approaches to the
bridge, and so fathomless the swamp on either hand, that they could
neither go forward, nor return. The straggling troops brought the
unwelcome intelligence, that their comrades on the other side were
starving, as they had crossed with a single ration of food, and had long
ago eaten their last morsels. While I was standing close by the bridge,
General McClellan, and staff, rode through the swamp, and attempted to
make the passage. The "young Napoleon," urged his horse upon the
floating timber, and at once sank over neck and saddle. His staff
dashed after him, floundering in the same way; and when they had
splashed and shouted, till I believed them all drowned, they turned and
came to shore, dripping and discomfited. There was another Napoleon,
who, I am informed, slid down the Alps into Italy; the present
descendant did not slide so far, and he shook himself, after the manner
of a dog. I remarked with some surprise, that he was growing obese;
whereas, the active labors of the campaign had reduced the dimensions of
most of the Generals.
I secured my horse, and placed a drummer-boy beside him, to prevent
abduction or mistake; then stripping from top to toe, and holding my
garments above my head, I essayed the difficult passage; as a
commencement, I dropped my watch, but the guard-hook caught in a log and
held it fast. Afterward, I slipped from the smooth butt of a tree, and
thoroughly soused myself and clothing; a lumber-man from Maine, beheld
my ill luck, and kindly took my burden to the other side. An estuary of
the Chickahominy again intervened, but a rough scow floated upon it,
which the Captain of Engineers sent for me, with a soldier to man the
oars. I neglected to "trim boat," I am sorry to add, although admonished
to that effect repeatedly by the mariner; and we swamped in four feet of
water. I resembled a being of one of the antediluvian eras, when I came
to land, finally, and might have been taken for a slimy Iguanodon. I
sacrificed some of my under clothing to the process of cleansing and
drying, and so started with soaking boots, and a deficiency of dress, in
the direction of Savage's. Passing the "bottom," or swamp-land, I
ascended a hill, and following a lane, stopped after a half hour at a
frame-mansion, unpainted, with some barns and negro-quarters contiguous,
and a fine grove of young oaks, shading the porch. An elderly gentleman
sat in the porch, sipping a julep, with his feet upon the railing, and
conversing with a stout, ruddy officer, of decidedly Milesian
physiognomy. When I approached, the latter hurriedly placed a chair
between himself and me, and said, with a stare--
"Bloodanowns! And where have ye been? Among the hogs, I think?" I
assured him that I did not intend to come to close quarters, and that it
would be no object on my part to contaminate him. The old gentleman
called for "William," a tall, consumptive servant, whose walk reminded
me of a stubborn convict's, in the treadmill, and ordered him to scrape
me, which was done, accordingly, with a case-knife. The young officer
proposed to dip me in the well and wring me well out, but I demurred,
mainly on the ground that some time would be so consumed, and that my
horse was waiting on the other side. He at once said that he would send
for it, and called "Pat," a civilian servant, in military blue, who was
nursing a negro baby with an eye, it seemed, to obtain favor with the
mother. The willingness of the man surprised me, but he said that it was
a short cut of four miles to the railroad bridge, which had been
repaired and floored, and that he could readily recover the animal and
return at three o'clock. My benefactor, the officer, then mixed a julep,
which brought a comfortable glow to my face, and said, without parley--
"You're a reporter, on the----"
He said further, that he had been Coroner's Surgeon in New York for many
years, and had learned to know the representatives of newspapers, one
from the other, by generic manner and appearance. Three correspondents
rode by at the time, neither of whom he knew personally, but designated
them promptly, with their precise connections. In short, we became
familiar directly, and he told me that his name was O'Gamlon,
Quartermaster of Meagher's Irish brigade, Sumner's corps. He was
established with the elderly gentleman,--whose name was Michie,--and had
two horses in the stable, at hand. He proposed to send me to the field,
with a note of introduction to the General, and another to Colonel
Baker, of the New York 88th (Irish), who could show me the lines and
relics of battle, and give me the lists of killed, wounded, and missing.
I repaired to his room, and arrayed myself in a fatigue officer's suit,
with clean underclothing, after which, descending, I climbed into his
saddle, and dashed off, with a mettlesome, dapper pony. The railroad
track was about a mile from the house, and the whole country, hereabout,
was sappy, dank, and almost barren. Scrub pines covered much of the
soil, and the cleared fields were dotted with charred stumps. The houses
were small and rude; the wild pigs ran like deer through the bushes and
across my path; vultures sailed by hundreds between me and the sky; the
lane was slippery and wound about slimy pools; the tree-tops, in many
places, were splintered by ball and shell. I crossed the railroad, cut
by a high bridge, and saw below the depot, at Savage's, now the
head-quarters of General Heintzelman. Above, in full view, were the
commands at Peach Orchard and Fairoaks, and to the south, a few furlongs
distant, the Williamsburg and Richmond turnpike ran, parallel with the
railway, toward the field of Seven Pines. The latter site, was simply
the junction of the turnpike with a roundabout way to Richmond, called
the "Nine Mile Road," and Fairoaks was the junction of the diverging
road with the railroad. Toward the latter I proceeded, and soon came to
the Irish brigade, located on both sides of the way, at Peach Orchard.
They occupied the site of the most desperate fighting.
A small farm hollowed in the swampy thicket and wood, was here divided
by the track, and a little farm-house, with a barn, granary, and a
couple of cabins, lay on the left side. In a hut to the right General
Thomas Francis Meagher made his head-quarters, and a little beyond, in
the edges of the swamp timber, lay his four regiments, under arms.
A guard admonished me, in curt, lithe speech, that my horse must come no
further; for the brigade held the advance post, and I was even now
within easy musket range of the imperceptible enemy. An Irish boy
volunteered to hold the rein, while I paid my respects to the Commander.
I encountered him on the threshold of the hut, and he welcomed me in the
richest and most musical of brogues. Large, corpulent, and powerful of
body; plump and ruddy--or as some would say, bloated--of face; with
resolute mouth and heavy animal jaws; expressive nose, and piercing
blue-eyes; brown hair, mustache, and eyebrows; a fair forehead, and
short sinewy neck, a man of apparently thirty years of age, stood in the
doorway, smoking a cigar, and trotting his sword fretfully in the
scabbard. He wore the regulation blue cap, but trimmed plentifully with
gold lace, and his sleeves were slashed in the same manner. A star
glistened in his oblong shoulder-bar; a delicate gold cord seamed his
breeches from his Hessian boots to his red tasselled sword-sash; a
seal-ring shone from the hand with which he grasped his gauntlets, and
his spurs were set upon small aristocratic feet.
A tolerable physiognomist would have resolved his temperament to an
intense sanguine. He was fitfully impulsive, as all his movements
attested, and liable to fluctuations of peevishness, melancholy, and
enthusiasm. This was "Meagher of the Sword," the stripling who made
issue with the renowned O'Connell, and divided his applauses; the
"revolutionist," who had outlived exile to become the darling of the
"Young Ireland" populace in his adopted country; the partisan, whose
fierce, impassioned oratory had wheeled his factious element of the
Democracy into the war cause; and the soldier, whose gallant bearing at
Bull Run had won him a brigadiership. He was, to my mind, a realization
of the Knight of Gwynne, or any of the rash, impolitic, poetic
personages in Lever and Griffin. Ambitious without a name; an adventurer
without a definite cause; an orator without policy; a General without
caution or experience, he had led the Irish brigade through the hottest
battles, and associated them with the most brilliant episodes of the
war.
Every adjunct of the place was strictly Hibernian. The emerald green
standard entwined with the red, white, and blue; the gilt eagles on the
flag-poles held the Shamrock sprig in their beaks; the soldiers lounging
on guard, had "69" or "88" the numbers of their regiments, stamped on a
green hat-band; the brogue of every county from Down to Wexford fell
upon the ear; one might have supposed that the "year '98" had been
revived, and that these brawny Celts were again afield against their
Saxon countrymen. The class of lads upon the staff of Meagher, was an
odd contrast to the mass of staff officers in the "Grand Army."
Fox-hunters they all seemed to me, and there was one, who wore a long,
twisted, pomatumed moustache, who talked of steeple chases, all the
while, and wanted to have "a healthy dash" of some kind. A class of
Irish exquisites, they appeared to be,--good for a fight, a card-party,
or a hurdle jumping,--but entirely too Quixotic for the sober
requirements of Yankee warfare. When anything absurd, forlorn, or
desperate was to be attempted, the Irish brigade was called upon. But,
ordinarily, they were regarded, as a party of mad fellows, more
ornamental than useful, and entirely too clannish and factious to be
entrusted with power. Meagher himself seemed to be less erratic than his
subordinates; for he had married a New York lady, and had learned, by
observation, the superiority of the pelfish, plodding native before his
own fitful, impracticable race. His address was infatuating: but there
was a certain airiness, indicative of vanity, that revealed his great
characteristic. He loved applause, and to obtain it had frittered away
his fine abilities, upon petty, splendid, momentary triumphs. He was
generous to folly, and, I have no doubt, maintained his whole staff.
When I requested to be shown the field, and its relics, Meagher said, in
his musical brogue, that I need only look around.
"From the edge of that wood," he said, "the Irish brigade charged across
this field, and fell upon their faces in the railway cutting below. A
regiment of Alabamians lay in the timber beyond, with other Southerners
in their rear, and on both flanks. They thought that we were charging
bayonets, and reserved their fire till we should approach within
butchering distance. On the contrary, I ordered the boys to lie down,
and load and fire at will. In the end, sir, we cut them to pieces, and
five hundred of them were left along the swamp fence, that you see.
There isn't fifty killed and wounded in the whole Irish brigade."
A young staff officer took me over the field. We visited first the
cottage and barns across the road, and found the house occupied by some
thirty wounded Federals. They lay in their blankets upon the
floors,--pale, helpless, hollow-eyed, making low moans at every breath.
Two or three were feverishly sleeping, and, as the flies revelled upon
their gashes, they stirred uneasily and moved their hands to and fro. By
the flatness of the covering at the extremities, I could see that
several had only stumps of legs. They had lost the sweet enjoyment of
walking afield, and were but fragments of men, to limp forever through a
painful life. Such wrecks of power I never beheld. Broad, brawny,
buoyant, a few hours ago, the loss of blood, and the nervous shock,
attendant upon amputation, has wellnigh drained them to the last drop.
Their faces were as white as the tidy ceiling; they were whining like
babies; and only their rolling eyes distinguished them from mutilated
corpses. Some seemed quite broken in spirit, and one, who could speak,
observing my pitiful glances toward his severed thigh, drew up his mouth
and chin, and wept as if with the loss of comeliness all his ambitions
were frustrated. A few attendants were brushing off the insects with
boughs of cedar, laving the sores, or administering cooling draughts.
The second story of the dwelling was likewise occupied by wounded, but
in a corner clustered the terrified farmer and his family, vainly
attempting to turn their eyes from the horrible spectacle. The farmer's
wife had a baby at her breast, and its little blue eyes were straying
over the room, half wonderingly, half delightedly. I thought, with a
shudder, of babyhood thus surrounded, and how, in the long future, its
first recollections of existence should be of booming guns and dying
soldiers! The cow-shed contained seven corpses, scarcely yet cold, lying
upon their backs, in a row, and fast losing all resemblance to man. The
farthest removed, seemed to be a diminutive boy, and I thought if he had
a mother, that she might sometime like to speak with me. When I took
their names, I thought what terrible agencies I was fulfilling. Beyond
my record, falsely spelled, perhaps, they would have no history. And
people call such deaths glorious!
Upon a pile of lumber and some heaps of fence-rails, close by, sat some
dozens of wounded men, mainly Federals, with bandaged arms and faces,
and torn clothing. There was one, shot in the foot, who howled at every
effort to remove his boot; the blood leaked from a rent in the side, and
at last, the leather was cut, piecemeal from the flesh. These ate
voraciously, though in pain and fear; for a little soup and meat was
being doled out to them.
The most horrible of all these scenes--which I have described perhaps
too circumstantially--was presented in the stable or barn, on the
premises, where a bare dingy floor--the planks of which tilted and
shook, as one made his way over them--was strewn with suffering people.
Just at the entrance sat a boy, totally blind, both eyes having been
torn out by a minnie-ball, and the entire bridge of the nose shot away.
He crouched against the gable, in darkness and agony, tremulously
fingering his knees. Near at hand, sat another, who had been shot
through the middle of the forehead, but singular to relate, he still
lived, though lunatic, and evidently beyond hope. Death had drawn blue
and yellow circles beneath his eyes, and he muttered incomprehensibly,
wagging his head. Two men, perfectly naked, lay in the middle of the
place, wounded in bowels and loins; and at a niche in the
weather-boarding, where some pale light peeped in, four mutilated
wretches were gaming with cards. I was now led a little way down the
railroad, to see the Confederates. The rain began to fall at this time,
and the poor fellows shut their eyes to avoid the pelting of the drops.
There was no shelter for them within a mile, and the mud absolutely
reached half way up their bodies. Nearly one third had suffered
amputation above the knee. There were about thirty at this spot, and I
was told that they were being taken to Meadow Station on hand cars. As
soon as the locomotive could pass the Chickahominy, they would be
removed to White House, and comfortably quartered in the Sanitary and
hospital boats. Some of them were fine, athletic, and youthful, and I
was directed to one who had been married only three days before.
"Doctor," said one, feebly, "I feel very cold: do you think that this is
death? It seems to be creeping to my heart. I have no feeling, in my
feet, and my thighs are numb."
A Federal soldier came along with a bucket of soup, and proceeded to
fill the canteens and plates. He appeared to be a relative of Mark
Tapley, and possessed much of that estimable person's jollity--
"Come, pardner," he said, "drink yer sup! now, old boy, this'ill warm
ye; sock it down and ye'll see yer sweetheart soon. You dead,
Ally-bammy? Go way, now. You'll live a hundred years, you will. That's
wot you'll do. Won't he, lad? What? Not any? Get out! You'll be slap on
your legs next week and hev another shot at me the week a'ter that. You
know you will! Oh! you Rebil! You, with the butternut trousers! Say!
Wake up and take some o' this. Hello! lad, pardner. Wake up!"
He stirred him gently with his foot; he bent down to touch his face. A
grimness came over his merriment. The man was stiff and dumb.
Colonel Baker, commanding the 88th New York, was a tall, martial
Irishman, who opened his heart and bottle at the same welcome, and took
me into the woods, where some of the slain still remained. He had slept
not longer than an hour, continuously, for seventy hours, and during the
past night had been called up by eight alarums. His men lay in the dark
thickets, without fires or blankets, as they had crossed the
Chickahominy in light marching order.
"Many a lad," said he, "will escape the bullet for a lingering
consumption."
We had proceeded but a very little way, when we came to a trodden place
beneath the pines, where a scalp lay in the leaves, and the imprint of a
body was plainly visible. The bayonet scabbard lay at one side, the
canteen at the other. We saw no corpses, however, as fatigue parties had
been burying the slain, and the whole wood was dotted with heaps of
clay, where the dead slept below in the oozy trenches. Quantities of
cartridges were scattered here and there, dropped by the retreating
Confederates. Some of the cartridge-pouches that I examined were
completely filled, showing that their possessors had not fired a single
round; others had but one cartridge missing. There were fragments of
clothing, hair, blankets, murderous bowie and dirk knives, spurs,
flasks, caps, and plumes, dropped all the way through the thicket, and
the trees on every hand were riddled with balls. I came upon a squirrel,
unwittingly shot during the fight. Not those alone who make the war must
feel the war! At one of the mounds the burying party had just completed
their work, and the men were throwing the last clods upon the remains.
They had dug pits of not more than two feet depth, and dragged the
bodies heedlessly to the edges, whence they were toppled down and
scantily covered. Much of the interring had been done by night, and the
flare of lanterns upon the discolored faces and dead eyes must have
been hideously effective. The grave-diggers, however, were practical
personages, and had probably little care for dramatic effects. They
leaned upon their spades, when the rites were finished, and a large, dry
person, who appeared to be privileged upon all occasions, said,
grinningly--
"Colonel, your honor, them boys 'ill niver stand forninst the Irish
brigade again. If they'd ha' known it was us, sur, begorra! they 'ud ha'
brought coffins wid 'em."
"No, niver!" "They got their ticket for soup!" "We kivered them, fait',
will inough!" shouted the other grave-diggers.
"Do ye belave, Colonel," said the dry person, again, "that thim
ribals'll lave us a chance to catch them. Be me sowl! I'm jist wishin to
war-rum me hands wid rifle practice."
The others echoed loudly, that they were anxious to be ordered up, and
some said that "Little Mac'll give 'em his big whack now." The presence
of death seemed to have added no fear of death to these people. Having
tasted blood, they now thirsted for it, and I asked myself,
forebodingly, if a return to civil life would find them less ferocious.
I dined with Colonel Owen of the 69th Pennsylvania (Irish) volunteers.
He had been a Philadelphia lawyer, and was, by all odds, the most
consistent and intelligent soldier in the brigade. He had been also a
schoolmaster for many years, but appeared to be in his element at the
head of a regiment, and was generally admitted to be an efficient
officer. He shared the prevailing antipathy to West Point graduates; for
at this time the arrogance of the regular officers, and the pride of the
volunteers, had embittered each against the other. His theory of
military education was, the establishment of State institutions, and the
reorganization of citizenship upon a strict militia basis. After dinner,
I rode to "Seven Pines," and examined some of the rifle pits used during
the engagement. A portion of this ground only had been retaken, and I
was warned to keep under cover; for sharpshooters lay close by, in the
underbrush. A visit to the graves of some Federal soldiers completed the
inspection. Some of the regiments had interred their dead in trenches;
but the New Englanders were all buried separately, and smooth slabs were
driven at the heads of the mounds, whereon were inscribed the names and
ages of the deceased. Some of the graves were freshly sodded, and
enclosed by rails and logs. They evidenced the orderly, religious habits
of the sons of the Puritans; for, with all his hardness of manner and
selfishness of purpose, I am inclined to think that the Yankee is the
best manifestation of Northern character. He loves his home, at least,
and he reveres his deceased comrades.
When I returned to Michie's, at six o'clock, the man "Pat," with a
glowing face, came out to the gate.
"That's a splendid baste of yours, sur," he said,--"and sich a boi to
gallop."
"My horse doesn't generally gallop," I returned, doubtfully.
When I passed to the barn in the rear, I found to my astonishment, a
sorrel stallion, magnificently accoutred. He thrust his foot at me
savagely, as I stood behind him, and neighed till he frightened the
spiders.
"Pat," said I, wrathfully, "you have stolen some Colonel's nag, and I
shall be hanged for the theft."
"Fait, sur," said Pat, "my ligs was gone intirely, wid long walkin', and
I sazed the furst iligant baste I come to."