WITH bray of the trumpet
And roll of the drum,
And keen ring of bugle,
The cavalry come.
Sharp clank the steel scabbards
The bridle chains ring,
And foam from red nostrils
The wild chargers fling.
Tramp! tramp! o'er the greensward
That quivers below,
Scarce held by the curb bit
The fierce horses go!
And the grim-visaged colonel,
With ear-rending shout,
Peals forth to the squadrons
The order: "Trot out!"
One hand on the saber,
And one on the rein,
The troopers move forward
In line on the plain.
As rings the word, "Gallop!"
The steel scabbards clank;
As each rowel is pressed
To a horse's hot flank;
And swift is their rush
And the wild torrents flow,
When it pours from the crag
On the valley below.
"Charge!" thunders the leader;
Like shaft from the bow
Each mad horse is hurled
On the wavering foe.
A thousand bright sabers
Are gleaming in air;
A thousand dark horses
Are dashed on the square.
Resistless and reckless
Of aught may betide,
Like demons, not mortals
The wild troopers ride.
Cut right! and cut left!
For the parry who needs?
The bayonets shiver
Like wind-scattered reeds.
Vain--vain the red volley
That bursts from the square,--
The random-shot bullets
Are wasted in air.
Triumphant, remorseless,
Unerring as death,--
No saber that's stainless
Returns to its sheath.
The wounds that are dealt
By that murderous steel
Will never yield case
For the surgeon to heal.
Hurrah! they are broken--
Hurrah! boys, they fly!
None linger save those
Who but linger to die.
Rein up your hot horses
And call in your men,--
The trumpet sounds, "Rally
To colors!" again.
Some saddles are empty,
Some comrades are slain
And some noble horses
Lie stark on the plain:
But war's a chance game, boys,
And weeping is vain.
FRANCIS A. DURIVAGE.
AN IMMORTAL TWAIN
IT is a coincidence worthy of note, and heretofore unremarked by
historians, that, as in the hour of birth of the National Flag there was
given to posterity the name of a great Revolutionary hero, the hour of
birth of the Confederate Battle Emblem immortalized the name of a hero
of the Confederacy.
At four o'clock in the afternoon of that hard-fought battle of Manassas
(Bull Run), July 21, 1861, the Federals were thinning out the lines in
gray. Now they were directing their efforts against the wings of Jackson
and Beauregard. Jackson's solemn visage was growing more solemn;
Beauregard was anxiously scanning the landscape beyond, in the hope of
discovering the approach of badly needed reenforcements.
Over the hill a long line was seen advancing. The day was hot and dry
and not a leaf stirred in the dust-laden air. Clouds of smoke and
grime enveloped the advancing troops and obscured their colors.
General Beauregard raised his glass and surveyed them critically.
[Illustration: GENERAL BEAUREGARD RAISED HIS GLASS AND SURVEYED THEM
CRITICALLY.]
He then called an officer and instructed him to go to General Johnston
and inform him that the enemy was receiving reenforcements and it might
be wise for him to withdraw to another point. Still, he was not fully
assured that the coming troops were Federals! The flag hung limp and
motionless and could not be accurately discerned.
If these were Federals the day was surely lost. But if they were
Confederates there was a fighting chance to win.
He determined to hold his position, and called out,
"What troops are those?"
No one could tell. Just then a gust of wind spread the colors. The flag
was the Stars and Bars--General Early's brigade, not a moment too soon.
"We must have a more distinct flag," announced General Beauregard
vehemently, in infinite relief: "One that we can recognize when we see
it."
In that instant was conceived the Confederate Battle Flag, used
thereafter throughout the Civil strife.
After the battle, the design--St. Andrew's Cross--was submitted by
General Beauregard, and, approved by General Joseph E. Johnston, was
adopted by the Confederate Congress.
"Conceived on the field of battle, it lived on the field of battle, and
was proudly borne on every field from Manassas to Appomattox."
* * * * *
The Confederates were routed and running in disorder. General Jackson
was standing immovable. General Bee rode to his side. "They will beat us
back!"
"No, Sir," replied Jackson, "we will give them the bayonet."
General Bee rode back to his brigade. "Look at Jackson," said he,
"standing there like a stone wall. Rally behind him." With this his
brigade fell into line.
* * * * *
Early's troops arrived and formed. The Federals were beaten into a
tumultuous retreat that never slacked until Centerville was reached.
From that day the name "Stonewall" attached to Thomas Jonathan Jackson
and was peculiarly appropriate as indicating the adamantine, unyielding
character of the man.
The motto of his life was: "A man can do what he wills to do," and in
his resolves he depended for guidance upon Divine leading. He tried
always to throw a religious atmosphere about his men; and out of respect
to his feelings, if for no other reason, they often refrained from evil.
His mount was a little sorrel horse, that the men affirmed was
strikingly like him as it could not run except towards the enemy.
The ardent love of his troops for him made the tragedy of his death the
more deplorable. Mistaking him for the enemy as he was returning from
the front, in the gathering darkness at Chancellorsville, May, 1863, his
own men shot him,--shot him down with victory in his grasp.
The whole country was horror-struck. Friend and foe alike paused in
sympathy at such a situation.
To the Southern cause it was more than the taking off of a leader; it
was an irreparable loss. By his death was left a gap in the Confederate
ranks that no one else could fill.
Prior to the breaking out of the war Jackson had been unknown, but in
the two years of his service he accomplished more than any other officer
on his side. He saved Richmond from early fall by keeping the Union
forces apart, until he was joined by Lee, when together they drove
McClellan from within a few miles of the Confederate Capital and cleared
the James River of gunboats.
In his report from Chancellorsville, General Robert E. Lee pays tribute
to the illustrious officer thus:--
"The movement by which the enemy's position was turned and the fortune
of the day decided, was conducted by the lamented Lieutenant General
Jackson, who, as has already been stated, was severely wounded near the
close of the engagement Saturday evening. I do not propose here to speak
of the character of this illustrious man, since removed from the scene
of his eminent usefulness, by the hand of an inscrutable but all-wise
Providence. I nevertheless desire to pay the tribute of my admiration
to the matchless energy and skill that marked this last act of his life,
forming as it did a worthy conclusion of that long series of splendid
achievements which won for him the lasting love and gratitude of his
country.
"R. E. LEE.
"GENERAL S. COOPER,
"Adjt. and Insp. Gen. C. S. Army,
"Richmond, Va."
STONEWALL JACKSON
NOT midst the lightning of the stormy fight,
Nor in the rush upon the vandal foe,
Did Kingly Death with his resistless might
Lay the great leader low.
His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke
In the full sunshine of a peaceful town;
When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak
That propped our cause went down.
Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground,
Recalling all his grand heroic deeds,
Freedom herself is writhing in the wound
And all the country bleeds.
He entered not the Nation's Promised Land,
At the red belching of the cannon's mouth
But broke the House of Bondage with his hand,
The Moses of the South!
O gracious God! not gainless is the loss;
A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown,
And while his country staggers neath the Cross,
He rises with the Crown.
HENRY LYNDEN FLASH.
[Illustration: HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG.]
THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG
A CLOUD possessed the hollow field,
The gathering battle's smoky shield:
Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,
And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the thunder pealed.
Then, at the brief command of Lee,
Moved out that matchless infantry,
With Pickett leading grandly down,
To rush against the roaring crown,
Of those dread heights of destiny.
Far heard above the angry guns
A cry across the tumult runs,--
The voice that rang through Shiloh's woods
And Chickamauga's solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons!
Ah, how the withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
A Khamsin wind that scorched and singed
Like that infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at Waterloo!
A thousand fell where Kemper led;
A thousand died where Garnett bled:
In blinding flame and strangling smoke
The remnant through the batteries broke
And crossed the works with Armistead.
"Once more in Glory's van with me!"
Virginia cried to Tennessee;
"We two together, come what may,
Shall stand upon these works today!"
(The reddest day in history.)
Brave Tennessee! In reckless way
Virginia heard her comrade say:
"Close round this rent and riddled rag!"
What time she set her battle-flag
Amid the guns of Doubleday.
But who shall break the guards that wait
Before the awful face of Fate?
The tattered standards of the South
Were shriveled at the cannon's mouth,
And all her hopes were desolate.
In vain the Tennesseean set
His breast against the bayonet;
In vain Virginia charged and raged,
A tigress in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet.
Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
Receding through the battle-cloud,
And heard across the tempest loud
The death-cry of a nation lost!
The brave went down! Without disgrace
They leaped to Ruin's red embrace;
They only heard Fame's thunders wake,
And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
In smiles on Glory's bloody face!
They fell, who lifted up a hand
And bade the sun in heaven to stand;
They smote and fell, who set the bars
Against the progress of the stars,
And stayed the march of Motherland!
They stood, who saw the future come
On through the fight's delirium;
They smote and stood, who held the hope
Of nations on that slippery slope
Amid the cheers of Christendom.
God lives! He forged the iron will
That clutched and held the trembling hill!
God lives and reigns! He built and lent
The heights for freedom's battlement
Where floats her flag in triumph still!
Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons!
WILL HENRY THOMPSON.
UNITED
ALL day it shook the land--grim battle's thunder tread;
And fields at morning green, at eve are trampled red.
But now, on the stricken scene, twilight and quiet fall;
Only, from hill to hill, night's tremulous voices call;
And comes from far along, where camp fires warning burn,
The dread, hushed sound which tells of morning's sad return.
Timidly nature awakens; the stars come out overhead,
And a flood of moonlight breaks like a voiceless prayer for the dead.
And steals the blessed wind, like Odin's fairest daughter,
In viewless ministry, over the fields of slaughter;
Soothing the smitten life, easing the pang of death,
And bearing away on high the passing warrior's breath.
Two youthful forms are lying apart from the thickest fray,
The one in Northern blue, the other in Southern gray.
Around his lifeless foeman the arms of each are pressed,
And the head of one is pillowed upon the other's breast.
As if two loving brothers, wearied with work and play,
Had fallen asleep together, at close of the summer day.
Foemen were they, and brothers?--Again the battle's din,
With its sullen, cruel answer, from far away breaks in.
BENJAMIN SLEDD.
OLD HEART OF OAK
TO the Navy is ascribed the larger shares in the Civil War, of
overcoming the prowess of the South. "The blockade sapped the industrial
strength of the Confederacy."
A powerful factor in this blockade was David G. Farragut. Farragut was a
Southerner by birth--a Tennessean--and fought, as it were, against his
own hearthstone. Yet, when it is considered that from early youth he was
in the marine service of the government and by arms upheld the national
flag, and when it is remembered with what reverence the seaman regards
the flag under which he serves, his choice is not surprising.
Scenes wherein men fought and died for the Stars and Stripes and often
with their dying breath expressing adoration of the nation's emblem were
common experiences of his life.
In his memoirs is related a pathetic story of a youth's death from
accidental shooting. "Put me in the boat," implored he of his comrades,
"that I may die under my country's flag." Another, a young Scotchman,
who had a leg cut off in battle, cried out mournfully, "I can no longer
be of use to the flag of my adoption," and threw himself overboard.
The necessity of choosing between the North and the South brought
Farragut many sleepless nights and forced him between the fires of
censure from the South and doubt of his fealty from the North, as it was
recognized that the Southern man, as a rule, felt that his first
allegiance was due to his State.
When he was but a lad of seven years, Farragut lost his mother and was
adopted by his father's friend, that fighting old Commodore David
Porter, who was destined to raise both his adopted and his own son to
become admirals in the United States Navy.
For little Dave Farragut the sea had always a wonderful fascination, and
at the age of twelve he was made a midshipman on the _Essex_, a warship
of 1812. The _Essex_ one day captured a whaling vessel, and Captain
Porter placed David in charge to steer her across the Pacific. The
captain of the whaler, when clear of the _Essex_, thought to regain his
vessel from the boy, by countermanding his orders. He threatened to
shoot any sailor who dared to disobey him. Right here, the mettle that
was to make Farragut the head of the American navy and the idol of the
American people manifested itself. He repeated his order at first given;
and when the mutinous captain appeared from below decks where he had
gone for his pistols, he was told by the youthful commander that he
would have to stay below or be thrown overboard. He chose the former.
To this same dauntless spirit, the Federal government owed the blockade
of the lower Mississippi and the closing of the ports of Mobile Bay,
that inflicted such injuries upon the Confederacy as to hasten the end
of the war. "With ports closed," says an authority, "the Southern armies
were reduced to a pitiful misery, the long endurance of which makes a
noble chapter in heroism."
The lower Mississippi was controlled by the Confederates. Possession of
the river and the capture of New Orleans could be accomplished only by
running the forts situated below the city some seventy miles. To run the
forts with wooden vessels and escape destruction from the armed vessels
of the Confederacy in the Mississippi was a hazardous undertaking.
Farragut believed he could do this. In December, 1861, he wrote to a
friend: "Keep your lips closed and burn my letters. Perfect silence is
the first injunction of the Secretary. I am to have a _flag_ in the
gulf, and the rest depends upon myself."
In March he again wrote, "I have now attained what I have been looking
for all my life--a _flag_--and having attained it, all that is necessary
to complete the scene is a victory." The victory he was soon to have.
At two o'clock the morning of April 24, 1862, the signal for the start
for the forts was given. In a few moments the thunderous roar of
batteries and guns broke upon the air. The river became a mass of
writhing flame.
"The passing of Forts Jackson and St. Phillips was one of the most awful
sights and events I ever saw or expect to experience," says Farragut.
Rafts of cotton were set on fire by the Confederates and came down the
river, scattering disaster as they came. One of these caught the
_Hartford_, Farragut's flagship, and set it on fire. So high rose the
flames that even the courageous commander was for the moment daunted and
exclaimed, "My God! is this to end this way!" By the expeditious use of
the hose the flames were controlled.
The strong barriers across the river were broken. By repeated and
desperate efforts the Confederate boats were sunk or disabled. The levee
at New Orleans was gained. The Crescent City was taken.
Thus was accomplished a feat in naval warfare reckoned without a
parallel in naval history, except in that of twenty-four months later in
Mobile Bay. In compliment to his exploit the rank of rear admiral was
conferred upon Farragut. Of the fleet, as subordinate officers, were
Dewey and Schley, a future admiral and a rear-admiral.
To his home, the victorious commander addressed the following letter:--
"My dearest Wife and Boy.
"I am so agitated I can scarcely write, and I shall only tell you that
it has pleased Almighty God to preserve my life through a fire such as
the world has scarcely known."
When the ships lay safely at the levee with but one of the squadron
lost, Farragut by note requested the mayor of New Orleans to remove the
Confederate flag and to surrender the city formally. In curt terms the
doughty mayor refused to do so, stating there was not in the city of New
Orleans a man who would take down that flag. Then ensued a most unique
correspondence between the two, through which Farragut made himself
misunderstood to the extent that it was rumored that it was his
intention to turn the guns on the city. At the expiration of forty-eight
hours, however, an officer of the fleet removed the offending flag and
hoisted the Stars and Stripes over the city hall.
To injure purposely the defenseless, as in turning the guns on the city,
was not in keeping with the nature of David Farragut as revealed in
history. Power combined with gentleness were the marked traits of his
character. This gentleness had its finest reflex in his delicate
attentions to his invalid wife. In the presence of her continuous
suffering his warrior nature was laid aside, and his chivalric kindness
shone forth in acts of rare devotion and tender care.
When he was asked one day, as to his feelings during a battle in seeing
men fall writhing upon every side, he answered, "I thought of nothing
but the working of the guns; but after the battle, when I saw the
mangled bodies of my shipmates, dead and dying, groaning and expiring
often with the most patriotic sentiments upon their lips, I became faint
and sick. My sympathies were all aroused." Markedly noticeable in his
letters is the absence of self-elation over his victories. There are,
rather, a rejoicing in the advancement of his cause and gratitude to the
Almighty for preservation. In this we read anew the lesson of true
greatness.
Just prior to entering into the noted action of Mobile Bay, he wrote his
son respecting his views of duty and death. "He who dies in doing his
duty to his country, and at peace with his God, has played out the drama
of life to the best advantage." Shortly after this was penned, the
_Hartford_ was steaming into Mobile Bay, under the heavy fire of guns of
Fort Morgan and Fort Gaines, in the execution of a naval feat that
attracted the attention and admiration of the whole civilized world.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF MOBILE BAY.]
At the mouth of the bay the two islands upon which the forts stood were
less than a mile apart. The passage had been strewn with torpedoes by
the Confederates, and only a narrow strip of water was left clear.
Through this strip went Farragut's fleet: the _Tecumseh_ first, the
_Brooklyn_ next, the _Hartford_ third. Suddenly the prow of the
_Tecumseh_ lifted: she veered and sank. The _Brooklyn_ backed and held
Farragut's ship directly under the guns of Fort Morgan. Shot and shell
hurtled in the air. The smoke grew dense. The fire from the cannons lit
the heavens. Men shouted and fell.
"What's the matter!" called Farragut.
"Torpedoes," some one answered.
Never a profane man, he now gave vent to an oath, and cried out, "Full
speed, Jouett. Four bells, Captain Drayton."
The _Hartford_ steamed to the front. The torpedoes crackled under her as
she sped on; but the forts were passed. And high in the rigging of his
ship, in full view of the enemy and imminent danger of the fiery
missiles, was seen Farragut, whence he directed all the ships'
maneuvers. An officer, observing him standing there, feared lest a shot
would cause his fall, and carried a rope and lashed him to the mast.
In maddened fury the ironclad _Tennessee_ plunged straight at the
_Hartford_. All the fleet bore down upon the Confederate ship. And
crowding together, the _Lackawanna_, needing room, struck the flagship
by accident, and came near striking the commander. Against the
_Tennessee_ every Federal ship now redoubled her efforts, until,
battered and bruised and despairing, she struck her colors.
The captain of the _Tennessee_ was Buchanan, the same who commanded the
_Merrimac_ in her fight with the _Monitor_ in Hampton Roads. "The
_Tennessee_ and Buchanan are my prisoners," wrote Farragut home. "He
has lost a leg. It was a hard fight, but Buck met his fate manfully."
Fort Morgan and Fort Gaines surrendered and Farragut's fierce conflicts
were at an end. Nearly so was his path of life. Congress honored him
with the rank of admiral, the highest honor to be conferred. America and
foreign nations extended him the most distinguishing courtesies. And
then--the unseen Pilot steered his course across the unknown sea unto
the harbor of the city Eternal.
FARRAGUT
FARRAGUT, Farragut,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke,
Watches the hoary mist
Lift from the bay,
Till his flag, glory-kissed,
Greets the young day.
Far, by gray Morgan's walls,
Looms the black fleet.
Hark, deck to rampart calls
With the drums' beat!
Buoy your chains overboard,
While the steam hums;
Men! to the battlement,
Farragut comes.
See, as the hurricane
Hurtles in wrath
Squadrons of clouds amain
Back from its path!
Back to the parapet,
To the gun's lips,
Thunderbolt Farragut
Hurls the black ships.
Now through the battle's roar
Clear the boy sings,
"By the mark fathoms four,"
While his lead swings.
Steadily the wheelmen five
"Nor' by East keep her."
"Steady," but two alive:
How the shells sweep her!
Lashed to the mast that sways
Over red decks,
Over the flame that plays
Round the torn wrecks,
Over the dying lips
Framed for a cheer,
Farragut leads his ships,
Guides the line clear.
On by heights cannon-browed,
While the spars quiver;
Onward still flames the cloud
Where the hulls shiver.
See, yon fort's star is set,
Storm and fire past.
Cheer him, lads--Farragut,
Lashed to the mast!
Oh! while Atlantic's breast
Bears a white sail,
While the Gulf's towering crest
Tops a green vale,
Men thy bold deeds shall tell,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke!
WILLIAM TUCKEY MEREDITH.
August, 1864.
PINE AND PALM
(GRANT AND LEE)
Charles Francis Adams in address before Chicago Chapter of Phi Beta
Kappa, June 17, 1902.
I NOW come to what I have always regarded--shall ever regard as the most
creditable episode in all American history,--an episode without a
blemish,--imposing, dignified, simple, heroic. I refer to Appomattox.
Two men met that day, representative of American civilization, the whole
world looking on. The two were Grant and Lee,--types each. Both rose,
and rose unconsciously, to the full height of the occasion,--and than
that occasion there has been none greater. About it and them, there was
no theatrical display, no self-consciousness, no effort at effect. A
great crisis was to be met; and they met that crisis as great countrymen
should.