ARRIVAL AT FORTRESS MONROE--THE VILLAGE OF HAMPTON--VISITING THE
CONTRABANDS--ARRIVAL OF FUGITIVES--A REAL "CAMP MEETING"--FEEDING THE
NEGROES--CAMP MISERIES--MULES--MISS PERIWINKLE'S MULES--THE
COQUETTISH, THE MORAL, THE HISTRIONIC, AND THE PATHETIC MULE--OUR
JACK--LINES OF LOVE--MY BOX AND PRESENTS--A THREE-STORY CAKE--A
SERENADE AND SURPRISE PARTY--GOOD AND BAD CHAPLAINS--THE MORALS OF THE
ARMY--SLANDERS ABOUT SOLDIERS.
We arrived at Fortress Monroe in a drenching rain, immediately
disembarked, and proceeded at once to Hampton--formerly a beautiful little
village containing about five hundred houses, many of them elegant brick
buildings, but which now lay a blackened mass of ruins, having been burned
a few months previous by order of rebel General Magruder. The village was
about three miles from Fortress Monroe, and situated on the west side of a
creek, or arm of the sea, called Hampton river, the Yorktown road passing
directly through its center. It was a great relief to the troops to
disembark from the filthy, crowded transports, notwithstanding they had to
march through the mud and rain, and then pitch their tents on the wet
ground. Fires were soon built, coffee made, and nice fresh bread served
out, which was brought to us by the commissary department at the fort.
As Mrs. B. and I had a little respite at this particular juncture, we set
about visiting the contrabands. They occupied a long row of board
buildings near the fort. The men were employed in loading and unloading
Government vessels, and the women were busily engaged in cooking and
washing. No language can describe the joy of these men and women at being
liberated from bondage. As the Jews of old were looking for the promised
Messiah, so the slaves universally regarded the advent of the northern
army as the harbinger of their deliverance.
Mr. A. relates the following anecdote, illustrative of this fact, which
took place at the battle of Newbern: "A slaveholder, breathless with
terror, spurred his horse to his utmost speed past his own house, not
venturing to stop. Just then a shell, with its terrific, unearthly shriek,
rushed through the air over his head. A poor slave, a man of unfeigned
piety and fervent prayer, in uncontrollable emotions of joy, ran into his
humble cabin, shouting: 'Wife, he is running, he is running, and the wrath
of God is after him. Glory hallelujah! the appointed time has come; we are
free, we are free!'"
With regard to my own visit to the contraband quarters, I give the
following extract from my journal: "Visited the contrabands to-day, and
was much pleased with their cheerful, happy appearance. They are
exceedingly ignorant, yet there is one subject upon which they can
converse freely and intelligibly, and that is--Christ--the way of
salvation. Almost all with whom I conversed to-day were praying men and
women. Oh, how I should like to teach these people! They seem so anxious
for instruction, I know they would learn quickly. Some of them are whiter
and prettier than most of our northern ladies. There is a family here, all
of whom have blue eyes, light hair, fair skin and rosy cheeks; yet they
are contrabands, and have been slaves. But why should blue eyes and golden
hair be the distinction between bond and free?"
One bitter, stormy night, about eleven o'clock, a band of these poor
fugitives, numbering over forty, presented themselves at the picket line,
for admittance to the federal camp, imploring protection. The officer of
the picket guard being called, and the case presented, the contrabands
were permitted to pass through. But no sooner had their poor torn and
bleeding feet touched the federal soil, than they fell upon their knees,
and returned thanks to God and to the soldiers for their deliverance. They
came into camp about one o'clock in the morning, shouting "Glory! Glory to
God!" Notwithstanding the early hour, and the stormy night, the whole camp
was aroused; every one rushed out to find out the cause of the
excitement. There they were, black as midnight, all huddled together in a
little group--some praying, some singing, and others shouting. We had a
real "camp meeting" time for a while. Soon the exercises changed, and they
began to relate their experiences, not only religious experiences, but a
brief history of their lives. Some were husbands and fathers. Their
masters had sold them down south, lest they should escape. In their terror
they had escaped by night, and fled to the National banner for refuge,
leaving all behind that was dear to them.
In conclusion, one old man, evidently their leader, stood up and said: "I
tell you, my breddern, dat de good Lord has borne wid dis yere slav'ry
long time wid great patience. But now he can't bore it no longer, no how;
and he has said to de people ob de North--go and tell de slaveholders to
let de people go, dat dey may sarve me." There were many there who had
listened to the old colored man's speech and believed, as I did, that
there was more truth than poetry in it. Many hearts were moved with
sympathy towards them, as was soon proved by the actions of the soldiers.
An immense fire was built, around which these poor darkies eagerly
gathered, as they were both wet, cold and hungry; then a large camp kettle
of coffee was made and set before them, with plenty of bread and meat to
satisfy their ravenous appetites--for ravenous they were, not having
tasted food for more than two days. Then blankets were provided, and they
soon became comfortable, and as happy as human beings could be under such
circumstances. Mrs. B. and I returned to our tents feeling very much like
indorsing the sentiment of "Will Jones' resolve:"
Resolved, although my brother be a slave,
And poor and black, he is my brother still;
Can I, o'er trampled "institutions," save
That brother from the chain and lash, I will.
A cold, drizzling rain continued to descend for several days, and our camp
became a fair specimen of "Virginia mud." I began to feel the effects of
the miasma which came floating on every breeze from the adjacent swamps
and marshes, and fever and ague became my daily companions for a time. As
I sat in my tent, roasting or shivering as the case might be, I took a
strange pleasure in watching the long trains of six mule teams which were
constantly passing and repassing within a few rods of my tent. As "Miss
Periwinkle" remarks, there are several classes of mules. "The coquettish
mule has small feet, a nicely trimmed tail, perked up ears, and seems much
given to little tosses of the head, affected skips and prances, and, if he
wears bells or streamers, puts on as many airs as any belle. The moral
mule is a stout, hardworking creature, always tugging with all his might,
often pulling away after the rest have stopped, laboring under the
conscientious delusion that food for the entire army depends upon his
individual exertions. The histrionic mule is a melo-dramatic sort of
quadruped, prone to startle humanity by erratic leaps and wild plunges,
much shaking of the stubborn head and lashing of his vicious heels; now
and then falling flat, and apparently dying _a la_ Forrest, a gasp, a
groan, a shudder, etc., till the street is blocked up, the drivers all
swearing like so many demons, and the chief actor's circulation becomes
decidedly quickened by every variety of kick, cuff and jerk imaginable.
When the last breath seems to have gone with the last kick, and the
harness has been taken off, then a sudden resurrection takes place. He
springs to his feet, and proceeds to give himself two or three comfortable
shakes, and if ever mule laughed in scornful triumph it is he, and as he
calmly surveys the excited crowd, seems to say: 'A hit! a decided hit!'
For once the most stupid of all animals has outwitted more than a dozen of
the lords of creation. The pathetic mule is, perhaps, the most interesting
of all; for although he always seems to be the smallest, thinnest, and
weakest of the six, yet, in addition to his equal portion of the heavy
load, he carries on his back a great postillion, with tremendous boots,
long tailed coat, and heavy whip. This poor creature struggles feebly
along, head down, coat muddy and rough, eye spiritless and sad, and his
whole appearance a perfect picture of meek misery, fit to touch a heart of
stone. Then there is another class of mules which always have a jolly,
cheer-up sort of look about them--they take everything good naturedly,
from cudgeling to carressing, and march along with a roguish twinkle in
their eye which is very interesting."
One morning, as I was just recovering from fever and ague, Jack, our
faithful colored boy, made his appearance at the door of my tent, touching
his hat in the most approved military style, and handed me a letter
bearing my address, saying, as he did so, "Dar's a box at de 'spress
office for you. May I run and fotch it?" I said, "Oh, yes, Jack, you may
bring it, but be careful and keep the cover on, there may be chickens in
it." Jack knew the meaning of that allusion to chickens, and so ran off
singing:
Massa run, ha, ha!
Darkies stay, ho, ho!
It must be now dat de kingdom's cumin
In de year ob jubilo.
In the meantime I opened my letter, from which I make the following
extract: "Having learned your address through Mrs. L----, whose son was
killed at the battle of Bull Run, we send you a donation in token of our
respect and esteem, and of our gratitude for your faithfulness on the
field and in the hospital." The following lines were also inclosed:
In the ranks of the sick and dying, in the chamber where death-dews fall,
Where the sleeper wakes from his trances to leap to the bugle-call,
Is there hope for the wounded soldier? Ah, no! for his heart-blood flows,
And the flickering flames of life must wane, to fail at the evening's
close.
Oh, thou who goest, like a sunbeam, to lighten the darkness and gloom,
Make way for the path of glory through the dim and shadowy room;
Go speak to him words of comfort, and teach him the way to die,
With his eyes upraised from the starry flag to the blessed cross on high.
And tell him brave hearts are beating with pulses as noble as thine;
That we count them at home by the thousands--thou sweetest sister of
mine;
That they fail not and flinch not from duty while the vials of wrath are
outpoured,
And tell him to call it not grievous, but joyous to fall by the sword.
When the hosts of the foe are outnumbered, and the day of the Lord is at
hand,
Shall we halt in the heat of the battle, and fail at the word of command?
Oh, no! through the trouble and anguish, by the terrible pathway of
blood,
We must bear up the flag of our freedom, on--on through the perilous
flood.
And if one should be brought faint and bleeding, though wounded, yet not
unto death,
Oh plead with the soft airs of heaven to favor his languishing breath;
Be faithful to heal and to save him, assuaging the fever and pains,
Till the pulse in his strong arm be strengthened and the blood courses
free in his veins.
While Mrs. B. and I were speculating with regard to the contents of the
box, Jack's woolly head reappeared in the doorway, and the subject of our
curiosity was before us. "Dar it be, and mity heavy, too; guess it mus' be
from ----." So saying, young hopeful disappeared. The box was soon opened,
its contents examined and commented upon. First came a beautiful silk and
rubber reversible cloak, which could be folded into such a small compass
that it could be put into an ordinary sized pocket, and a pair of rubber
boots.
Then came a splendid silver-mounted revolver, belt and miniature
cartridge-box. But the greatest piece of perfection I ever saw came in the
shape of a "housewife;" it was lined and covered with oil silk, and my
name printed on it in gilt letters, above which was an eagle, and below
was the following inscription: "A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten
thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee." Then came
pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, and other articles too numerous to mention.
But last, not least, was found in the bottom, stowed away in one corner,
two bottles of the best currant wine, a nice jar of jelly, and a large
loaf of cake, frosted and mottoed in fine style. This cake was certainly a
great curiosity. It was a three-story cake, with three doors made to slide
back by gently pulling a bell-handle which was made of rosettes of red,
white and blue ribbon. To the first bell-cord was attached a splendid gold
ring, to the second a ten dollar gold piece, and to the third and last a
small sized hunting cased gold watch and chain. At such revelations I
began to feel as if my humble tent had become an enchanted palace, and
that all I should have to do in future would be to rub that mysterious
ring, and the genii would appear, ready to supply all my wants. We then
commenced to divide the spoil, Mrs. B. positively asserting that she had
no right to any part of the donation, and I telling her that in all
probability it was all intended for her, and through one of those "slight
mistakes" it was directed to me.
The news of this wonderful box soon spread through camp, and the result
was that we had a surprise party as soon as evening came, Chaplain B.
taking the opportunity of making some very appropriate remarks on the
occasion. Then came the band to serenade us, and the consequence was that
our cake and wine disappeared with our numerous friends, for we found that
all were willing to obey the scriptural injunction, "Take a little wine,"
etc. Chaplain B. is a very worthy, zealous, faithful minister, and I have
spoken very highly of him, but perhaps in doing so I have given the
impression that all chaplains are good and faithful. I am very sorry to
state that it is not so. There are some who have no fitness for their
work, and some a disgrace to their profession. I think I am safe in saying
that one bad chaplain will do more harm in a regiment than a hundred good
men can counteract. If there is any place on earth where faithful
ministers are needed more than another, it is in the army--it is in the
hospital. But may God have mercy upon those who go there, whose object is
dollars and cents--who neglect their duty, and fill the places which
should be occupied by Christ-like heralds of the cross who love the souls
of their fellow men. I think the words of the Saviour are particularly
applicable to some of the chaplains of the army when He says: "Woe unto
you hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men," etc. I
have conversed with many in the army upon the subject of religion, who
told me that the conduct of certain chaplains had more influence in
keeping them away from the Saviour than all the combined forces of the
evil one. Such chaplains are there through political influence, regardless
of qualifications.
Some persons have tried very hard to get up the general belief that the
army is terribly demoralized in its best estate, and all who go there must
inevitably plunge into vice; but a greater slander was never propagated.
There is, undoubtedly, vice in the army; but where is there a city or
community throughout the North where vice is not to be found?
notwithstanding the tide of moral and religious influence which is daily
brought to bear against it. Although the outer man appears rough, and much
drunkenness and other evils exist in the army, yet there is much that is
pure, lovely, and of good report in the character of both officers and
men. "I can speak of that I do know, and testify of that which I have
seen," and I am free to say that I think the morals of the majority of the
men are quite as good, if not better than you will find among the same
number at home, made up of all classes as we find them in the army.
It is true many have backslidden since they left home; but is equally true
that _very_ many have been reformed, and are now better men than when they
enlisted. Every day's history proves that there are thousands of noble
hearted, pure minded christians in our army, and none but traitors and
infidels, the enemies of God and man, will deny this fact.