THE CIVIL WAR
(1861)
THE War between the States in 1861 was one of the most terrible conflicts known to modern times.
Many causes led up to it, chief among which was a difference in the interpretation of the Const.i.tution by the people of the North and of the South. The slavery question was also a point of dispute; and several minor causes brought about a dissension in the two sections that resulted in the gigantic struggle of friend against friend, brother against brother, father against son.
The early engagements of the contending forces were ones of signal victory to the South. The disunion of the nation was so seriously threatened as to bring grave concern to the Federal government. As the weeks and months wore away, victory perched above the banner of the Federals, and the climax was reached in the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox, after four years of deadly strife.
Both sides fought valiantly. Both won; in that the glory of the Republic was to stand henceforth supreme among foreign nations, the greatness of the combatants to receive a recognition never to be effaced.
Through a perspective of fifty years of peace, the heroism displayed on either field by those engaged therein is, to the most partisan observer, silhouetted upon the mental vision in glowing lines of light. Justly we term it "Our most Heroic Period."
Not the least remarkable of this aftermath, transcending all experiences of other nations, is the brotherhood, the kindly feeling of sympathy and understanding, that after the pa.s.sage of but half a century now binds the once warring sections in indissoluble bonds of unity.
CHARLESTON
CALM as that second summer which precedes The first fall of the snow, In the broad sunlight of heroic deeds, The city bides the foe.
As yet, behind their ramparts, stern and proud, Her bolted thunders sleep,-- Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud, Looms o"er the solemn deep.
No Calpe frowns from lofty cliff or scaur To guard the holy strand; But Moultrie holds in leash her dogs of war Above the level sand.
And down the dunes a thousand guns lie couched, Unseen, beside the flood,-- Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched, That wait and watch for blood.
Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade, Walk grave and thoughtful men, Whose hands may one day wield the patriot"s blade As lightly as the pen.
And maidens, with such eyes as would grow dim, Over a bleeding hound, Seem each one to have caught the strength of him Whose sword she sadly bound.
Thus girt without and garrisoned at home, Day patient following day, Old Charleston looks from roof and spire and dome, Across her tranquil bay.
Ships, through a hundred foes, from Saxon lands And spicy Indian ports, Bring Saxon steel and iron to her hands, And summer to her courts.
But still, along yon dim Atlantic line, The only hostile smoke Creeps like a harmless mist above the brine, From some frail floating oak.
Shall the spring dawn, and she, still clad in smiles, And with an unscathed brow, Rest in the strong arms of her palm-crowned isles, As fair and free as now?
We know not; in the temple of the Fates G.o.d has inscribed her doom: And, all untroubled in her faith, she waits The triumph or the tomb.
HENRY TIMROD.
FREDERICKSBURG
Dec. 13, 1862
THE increasing moonlight drifts across my bed, And on the church-yard by the road, I know It falls as white and noiselessly as snow.
"Twas such a night two weary summers fled; The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow Where the swift currents of the river flow Past Fredericksburg: far off the heavens are red With sudden conflagration: on yon height, Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath: A signal-rocket pierces the dense night, Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath: Hark! the artillery ma.s.sing on the right, Hark! the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!
THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
CIVIL WAR[2]
"RIFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; Ring me a ball in the glittering spot That shines on his breast like an amulet!"
"Ah, Captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead, There"s music around when my barrel"s in tune!"
Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped, And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon.
"Now, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and s.n.a.t.c.h From your victim some trinket to handsel first blood; A b.u.t.ton, a loop, or that luminous patch That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud!"
"O, Captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track, When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette, For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet."
"But I s.n.a.t.c.hed off the trinket,--this locket of gold; An inch from the center my lead broke its way, Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold, Of a beautiful lady in bridal array."
"Ha! Rifleman, fling me the locket!--"tis she, My brother"s young bride, and the fallen dragoon Was her husband--Hush! soldier, "twas Heaven"s decree, We must bury him there, by the light of the moon!
"But hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; War is a virtue,--weakness a sin; There"s a lurking and loping around us to-night; Load again, rifleman, keep your hand in!"
CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY.
[2] The above has been sometimes ent.i.tled "The Fancy Shot." It appeared first in a London weekly and is commonly attributed to Charles Dawson Shanly, who died in the late seventies.
"ROUND SHILOH CHURCH
WITHIN Shiloh Church that fateful day of 1862, no sound of song or praise was heard. But all without the leaden missiles rang and sang in chorus of red death. Green blades of gra.s.s, dew-tipped, sprang up to greet the sun that April morn, but ere night fell were bowed to earth with weight of human blood. Ne"er before had little church looked out on such a scene. Ten thousand homes and hearts of North and South were there made desolate; and twice ten thousand men gave up their lives. The world looked on and wondered.
Albert Sidney Johnston, the hero of three wars, had staked his life and cause that April day, for victory or defeat.