“The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o’er,”
“The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o’er,”
“The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o’er,”
“The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o’er,”
but the night was not half so heavy as our hearts, nor so dark as our prospects. All at once a speck of light gleamed on the distant wave. It moved; it came nearer and nearer, and at ten o’clock at night theMonitorappeared.
“‘When the tale of bricks is doubled, Moses comes!’
“I never more firmly believed in special Providence than at that hour. Even sceptics for the moment were converted, and said: ‘God has sent her!’ But how insignificant she looked! She was but a speck on the dark blue sea at night, almost a laughable object by day. The enemy call her ‘a cheese-box on a raft,’ and the comparison is a good one. Could she meet theMerrimac? The morrow must determine, for, under God, theMonitoris our only hope now.”
Lieutenant Worden, the Commander of theMonitor, on arriving at Fort Monroe was instructed to lie alongside theMinnesota, to guard her in case of a night attack. At eleven o’clock she set out, and her arrival was hailed with delight by the men on board the frigate, though some shook their heads at the strange unshapely toy which a private individual had constructed to save the Federal fleet. But few slept that night. The odds against theMonitorseemed too great. She mountedbut two guns, while theMerrimaccarried ten. Sunday morning broke sunny and beautiful, and the sea was peaceful and calm. Near Sewell’s Point, opposite Hampton Roads, three vessels were at anchor, one of them theMerrimac.
About nine o’clock glasses showed a stir amongst them, and instantly theMonitorawoke to life and action, closing her iron hatches and putting on the dead-light covers. TheMonitor, like a great girdle-cake, only stood 2 feet out of the water; her smooth surface was broken only by the turret and pilot-house.
Then they saw theMerrimaccoming, looking like a submerged house, with roof only out of the water. After her came theJamestownandYorktown, and a fleet of tug-boats crowded with ladies and gentlemen from Norfolk eager to see the fun.
TheMerrimac, entirely unconscious of the new enemy she had to encounter, steamed slowly along and fired upon theMinnesota, which was still aground. TheMinnesotareplied with a broadside and the usual result; but theMonitorsteamed out from behind and boldly advanced to meet her antagonist, and when at a distance of half a mile Lieutenant Worden from the pilot-house gave the order to fire. The ball, weighing 170 pounds, rattled against the mailed side of theMerrimac. She staggered under the force of the concussion, and at once seemed to realize that in this floating turret she had no mean antagonist. At the range of only a few yards she poured in a terrible broadside. To her disgust, the shots seemed to have glided off and done no harm. Then the two vessels closed and poured a hail of heavy metal upon each other. TheMonitorbeing the quicker, would circle round theMerrimac, while the turret, turning with ease, always presented the guns to the foe.
Worden in his pilot-house could speak through tubes toLieutenant Green, who commanded the gunners in the tower. Once Green trained his guns on theMerrimac’swater-line, and the shot penetrated.
“Splendid, sir! splendid!” roared Worden. “You have made the iron fly.”
But the spectators who lined the ramparts of Fort Monroe could not see what was happening for the clouds of smoke, and they stood, silent and wretched, almost afraid to look.
But at last the veil parted, and they saw the littleMonitorlying alongside theMerrimac, trim and spiteful, with the Stars and Stripes flying proudly from her stern, and a great cheer arose from every throat. Then they saw theMerrimacbear down upon the little flat cheese, as if to sink her. She struck fair and square, but the iron ram glided up on her low-sheathed deck and simply careened her over; but in so doing theMerrimacshowed her unarmed hull below the iron coat of mail, and theMonitorplanted one of her shots in a vital place.
For four long hours had this strange duel lasted, theMerrimacfiring heavily, theMonitorsteaming round and choosing her place and time, with careful aim at rudder, screw, and water-line. At last Buchanan, the Commander of theMerrimac, was severely wounded, and as his ship began to take in water through three gaping wounds, the helm was put over and the conqueror of yesterday limped away. But her last shot struck point-blank upon the iron grating of the pilot-house just where Lieutenant Worden was looking out. The concussion threw him down senseless, and minute pieces of iron and powder were driven into his eyes, so that he was blinded. When after a time he recovered his consciousness he asked:
“Have I saved theMinnesota?”
“Yes, sir, and whipped theMerrimac,” was the reply.
“Then I care not what becomes of me,” murmured the Lieutenant.
TheMerrimacslowly made her way to a safe anchorage under the batteries at Sewell’s Point. Here she signalled for help, and tugs came up, took her in tow, and escorted her to Norfolk. Her injuries were so severe that after months of work upon her she never ventured to quit her retreat, whereas theMonitorseemed but slightly damaged. She had been hit twenty-two times, and only showed slight indentations, but a ball striking full on the pilot-house had bent a huge iron beam. The ram of theMerrimachad torn off some of the plating from the side of theMonitor. The latter drew only 10 feet of water, and could go where theMerrimaccould not venture.
But though theMerrimachad fired her last shot, she gave the North a great fright in the night which followed the battle. At midnight thousands of people along the coast were roused from their sleep by cries that came over the water: “Fire! fire! For God’s sake, save us!”
The shore was soon lined by spectators, who stood unable to get a boat to put out or help in any way. There was the gunboatWhitehallroaring with flames, and the dark figures of the crew were plainly visible on her deck, either wrapped in red fire or jumping into the deep water beneath.
TheWhitehall’sshotted guns were going off here and there through the thick crowds or clustering houses, and one shell struck the hospital, making the inmates believe that theMerrimachad returned. It transpired that a red-hot shot had been thrown from theMerrimacduring the day and had lodged between theWhitehall’stimbers, where the fire smouldered until late at night.
The general conclusion from this momentous fight between the first ironclads was that “England’s navalsupremacy is gone for ever.” But men are more potent than masses of metal. America and England have navies now in comparison with which theMerrimacandMonitorare but tin kettles. Yet we must remember that Russia, too, a few months ago possessed a strong navy as far as metal goes. But once again the Japanese proved to the world that it is in the hearts of brave men, the science of clever men, and the enduring patience of patriotic men, that the issues of victory or defeat are mainly determined.
New Orleans and its forts—Farragut despises craven counsel—The mortar-fleet in disguise—Fire-rafts rush down—A week of hot gun-fire—A dash through the defences—TheVaruna’slast shot—Oscar, aged thirteen—Ranged before the city—Anger of mob—Summary justice—Soldiers insulted in the streets—General Butler in command—Porter nearly blown up in council—Fort Jackson in ruins—“The fuse is out.”
New Orleans, on the Mississippi River, was the great market of the South, a rich and powerful city of 200,000 inhabitants. Everything possible had been done to defend it from the Northern arms. Sixty miles below New Orleans the river makes a sharp bend, and here, fronting each other on either side, stood the forts of Jackson and St. Philip. These strong forts the Confederates had seized, and the Federal fleet had to pass them on its way to New Orleans. They were heavily armoured with 180 pieces of ordinance, but besides the forts the warships would have to cut through an iron cable stretched across the river and supported by seven hulks and rafts. Above these were eighteen gunboats and floating batteries, with fire-rafts and rams; so that the city felt itself tolerably secure behind these obstructions, and laughed to scorn any thought of being besieged. Besides, had not English and French officers examined the forts and pronounced the attempt to pass them madness? But CommodoreFarragut, who was in command of the National fleet, answered them in these words:
“You may be right, gentlemen, but I was sent here to make the attempt. I came here to reduce or pass the forts and to take New Orleans, and I shall try it on.”
The Federal mortar-fleet was getting ready for action. Topmasts were lowered, all spars and booms unshipped, the main-decks cleared, and armour of chain cables was improvised to protect the gunners. The ships were painted with mud to make them invisible. On the 17th of April the order was given to advance up-stream. There was a thick forest on the western bank, a low bank and marshy ground on the east. In order to confuse the enemy, the masts and rigging of the Northerners were festooned with leafy branches; others were sheathed with reeds to blend with the background of the river-bank. Five sloops of war waited behind the mortar-boats, carrying 104 guns; 150 boats supplied with grapnel-ropes, axes, and buckets, were ready to deal with the fire-ships. And they soon had the work to do, for one dark night a blazing raft came down upon them, lighting up water and bank, trees and rushes; but theWestfielddashed into the burning pile and turned her hose upon it; and the boats leapt forth to hack and grapple and plunge the burning timbers into the river. Then cheers broke forth when the peril had been subdued.
At 9 a.m. of the 16th of April Fort Jackson threw a shell into the Northern flotilla a mile off, and at once the mortar-boats replied, sending their big shells with great accuracy into the very ramparts. New Orleans, seventy-two miles away, distinctly heard the thunder of the bombardment, kept up for more than a week. The citadel was set on fire, the walls cracked and shattered, and the forts were flooded. The men on deck would fall down and sleep in the midst of the great thunder, so exhaustedwere they by toil night and day. On the second day theCarletonreceived a shell into her magazine, which exploded, and she sank. At the end of a week, after all this terrible storm of flying metal, only one man had been killed and six wounded in the Federal fleet. But the forts had not been silenced.
On the 24th of April, at 2 a.m., two red lights were run up on the flag-ship, and very soon the fleet was under way for the passage between the forts. As each ship passed it delivered its broadside and swept on towards the gunboats beyond. Fire-rafts kept floating down, and the roar of 500 cannon shook the air.
TheIthacawas riddled by shot and fell behind. The ramManassescame down on the flag-ship, and Admiral Farragut got aground while trying to avoid her. His ship took fire from a fire-raft, but it was extinguished.
Captain Boggs in theVarunasunk five gunboats one after another, then his vessel’s sides were stove in by a ram; but with his last broadside before he sank he disabled her. A boy named Oscar was on board theVaruna, only thirteen years old, and during the fight was very busy passing ammunition to the gunners. All covered with dirt and powder-begrimed, he was met by Captain Boggs, who asked where he was running in such a hurry.
“To get a passing-box, sir. My other was smashed by a ball.”
When theVarunawent down with her crew Boggs missed the boy, and feared he was among the drowned. But presently he saw the lad gallantly swimming towards theOneida, a neighbour ship. Oscar clambered on board, dripping and grinning from ear to ear, as if he had just enjoyed the finest fun in life. Seeing his Captain, he put his hand to his forehead in the usual salute, and saying, “All right, sir; I report myself on board,” shook off the water and was ready for the next duty to hand.
On the morning of the 25th the Federal ships ranged up near the city batteries and silenced their fire in a few minutes. Soon the whole fleet was moored opposite New Orleans, with the Stars and Stripes proudly flying from every masthead, and the bands playing their national airs.
The citizens of New Orleans had rested in full persuasion that they were absolutely safe behind their forts and gunboats, and now that they saw the enemy actually threatening their city, they were transported by a passion of panic, mortification, and rage.
When they first heard that the forts had been passed and that the Yankee ships were coming up the river, the mob of the city became so desperate in their fury that martial law had to be proclaimed. At least, they said, these hated Yankees should not get the wealth of the city, and they put the torch to everything that would burn. Offices, banks, ships, cotton, piers, warehouses, coal, and sugar—all were fired and consumed in one vast conflagration. The river was dotted with floating islands of flame, as richly freighted merchantmen were fired and cut adrift.
The Confederate General Lovell and his troops were withdrawn, as no reasonable promise of a successful defence remained.
Two iron rams of immense power which had been in building were destroyed before Admiral Farragut arrived.
As soon as the fleet appeared before the city some of the citizens who favoured the Union foolishly expressed their delight by cheers. Civil war is always conducted with greater bitterness than war with a foreign Power. These unfortunates were promptly shot down in the street or on the quay.
Shot down by their Fellow-CitizensDuring the siege of New Orleans, some of those who favoured the North were foolish enough to cheer when the Northern fleet arrived.
Shot down by their Fellow-CitizensDuring the siege of New Orleans, some of those who favoured the North were foolish enough to cheer when the Northern fleet arrived.
Shot down by their Fellow-Citizens
During the siege of New Orleans, some of those who favoured the North were foolish enough to cheer when the Northern fleet arrived.
On the 26th of April the city was formally surrendered, and a body of troops was landed to raise the Stars and Stripes over the public buildings. Crowds of angry menfollowed the marines with hoot and yell, and were only prevented from inflicting actual outrage by the fear of being shelled from the ships. It is said that Captain Bailey and his men on landing at the crowded pier were jostled and jeered at by angry bands of rowdies. We have to remember this when we pass judgment on General Butler’s order to treat all ladies who insulted the troops as disorderly women. We may wonder how the Germans would have treated the French in Paris had the Parisians dared to conduct themselves so outrageously.
General Butler writes thus to a friend: “We were 2,500 men in a city seven miles long by two to four wide, of 150,000 inhabitants, all hostile, bitter, defiant, explosive—standing literally on a magazine. The devil had entered the hearts of the women to stir up strife in every way. Every opprobrious epithet, every insulting gesture, was made by these bejewelled, becrinolined and laced creatures, calling themselves ladies, towards my soldiers and officers from the windows of houses and in the streets. How long do you think our flesh and blood could have stood this?...”
It is clear that General Butler was as angry as the ladies. TheAlbany Journaladds this fact: “Women who have been regarded as the pattern of refinement and good breeding not only assail our men with the tongue, but with more material weapons. Buckets of slops are emptied upon them as they pass, decayed oranges and rotten eggs are hurled at them. The forbearance of our troops is wonderful.”
Commander Porter had been left behind to receive the capitulation of the forts Jackson and St. Philip, when the Federal fleet steamed up to New Orleans. He pitched a few shells into Fort Jackson, but there “was no response; the fight had all been taken out of them.” On the 28th a flag of truce from Fort Jackson came on boardtheHarriet Lanewith offer to surrender. When officers of both sides were assembled in the cabin of theHarriet Lanediscussing the details of surrender, an officer came below and informed Commander Porter that the Southern batteryLouisianahad been set on fire and was drifting down upon them. She was a steam floating battery of 4,000 tons, mounting sixteen heavy guns. The battery had been fired so quietly that no one suspected any such thing until it blazed up, for flags of truce were flying upon both forts and ships.
Porter proceeded with the conference as if nothing were the matter. Soon another officer came down, reporting that the battery, on fire from stem to stern, was drifting down upon them.
Turning to the Confederate officers, Porter asked: “Has she powder and loaded guns on board, gentlemen?”
“We presume so, but we know nothing of naval matters here.”
Just at this moment the hot guns began to go off and throw shot and shell at random amongst friends and foes.
Commander Porter, with severe coolness of manner, only said: “Then we will go on with our business, gentlemen. If you don’t mind the effect of the explosion which is soon to come, we can stand it.”
Fortunately, theLouisianadrifted across towards St. Philip, and exploded her magazine when just abreast of it. The sound of the explosion was heard for miles up and down the river. When the smoke cleared away the battery had gone into fragments and sunk in the Mississippi. If it had drifted upon theHarriet Lane, as had been intended, and blown into smithereens the consulting officers of both North and South, that would have been a consequence of treachery almost worse than the insults of the New Orleans ladies or the indiscreet edict of General Butler.
Fort Jackson had crumbled into powder under the impact of the huge shells from the mortars. On the first night of the bombardment the magazine was in such danger that only wet blankets saved it from blowing up. One bomb came leaping into the officers’ mess-room when they were dining. With a thud and a rumble it rolled under the very table. All rose and clustered in a corner in some consternation, expecting to go skywards with the crockery. They waited one minute, two minutes. Not yet had death come! Then a young officer crawled under the table and burst into a hearty laugh.
“What is it, Jimmy?”
“Oh, you can go on with that Irish stew now. The fuse is out.”
They returned to their dinners with such appetite as they could. Fortunately, men who are living at high pressure and strain, meeting death at every turn, are easily moved to see the funny side of things.
Fair Oaks a drawn battle—Robert Lee succeeds Johnston—Reforms in the army—Humours of the sentinels—Chaffing the niggers—Their idea of liberty—The pickets chum together—Stuart’s raid—A duel between a Texan and a German—Effect of music on soldiers—A terrible retreat to James River—Malvern Hill battle-scenes—Three years after—General Grant before Richmond—Coloured troops enter the Southern capital in triumph—Lee surrenders—Friends once more.
The battle of Fair Oaks had been fought, and General McClellan began to entrench himself in view of the siege of Richmond. It had been a drawn battle: the South had taken some guns, but the Federal forces were too strong for them, and swamps, rough ground, and woods all helped to throw the South into confusion. Upon a field hardly a mile square were lying some 7,000 or 8,000 dead and wounded, many of them having been there for twenty-four hours. Some had gone deep into the muddy swamps and stuck fast there, dying or laying the foundation of some terrible disease. Acres of forest had been slashed, or cut about 5 feet from the ground, to prevent the passage of troops and artillery.
The Southern Commander-in-Chief, General Johnston, had been killed by a shell in this battle, but the substitution of General Robert E. Lee as Commander led to great reforms in the Confederate Army. Lee at once removedthe camps from malarious swamps; he provided supplies of wholesome provisions, and reclothed the hungry, starving and mutinous men, so that in a few weeks they looked stronger, fought better, and behaved as men under discipline.
Every evening the countersign was given out, and sentinels were posted to prevent spies crossing the Chickahominy. In the Federal Army were men of many nations—Scotch, Irish, German, Norsemen, and others. It was told of an Irish sentinel that he stopped a stranger.
“Halt! Who comes there?”
“Me—a friend of the chaplain.”
“Have ye the countersign?”
“No.”
“Faith! an’ if ye were a friend of the divil and had no counthersign ye couldn’t pass this way—not on no account, sor.”
“But I tell you I am a friend of your chaplain, and I forgot to ask him for the countersign. Don’t you see?”
“Is that it, sor? Then, be jabers! what’s to prevint me giving to ye the counthersign, eh?”
“Nothing, I suppose, if you will be so kind.”
“Come closer, and, be jabers! I’ll just whisper it in your ear. There! Now stand and answer. Who comes here?”
“A friend.”
“A friend! Right! and maybe ye have the counthersign?”
“I have; it is ‘Good-night, mother.’”
“Quite correct, sor. Pass on, and good luck to ye!”
A long siege is such dull work that the Northerners used to amuse themselves by chaffing the young negroes when they caught them in the lines. Perhaps they would give the nigger-boy a bit of food, then suddenly say:
“Sambo, what relation are you to Jeff Davis’s coachman?”
The black eyes would roll and the whites enlarge as the grinning nigger replied:
“I ain’t no sort o’ connexion with that ere, sah.”
“You’re a Secesh, I reckon.”
“No, sah; I’m Union boy.”
“Oh, then we shall have to flog you, Sambo. Don’t you know that in this part of McClellan’s army we are all at heart good rebels?”
“Lord ha’ mercy! I never thought o’ that; and now I do think on it, I do agree dat I am a bit of a rebel, anyhow.”
Then all the listeners would burst out laughing at poor Sambo, and he left the camp befogged and bewildered.
Once an old grey-headed negro came into camp, and some young officers began to tackle him.
“Think we can take Richmond, boy?”
“Dar be right smart o’ men round here, but I dunno ’bout dar being able for to take Richmond, sah.”
“‘Right smart o’ men!’” said a Captain. “Why, this is only a flea-bite to what’s coming to eat up the rebel army. You’ll see them coming up like locusts. Here’s McClellan with half a million around here, and there’s Burnside down there, coming from Carolina with a hundred thousand more, and General Banks with two hundred thousand more, and General Fremont—why, he can’t count his men he has so many!”
The old fellow opened his eyes wider and wider as the list of imaginary armies was run over. Then, gazing up intently in the officer’s face:
“Got all dem men?” he asked in a subdued voice.
“Yes, and more.”
The negro threw out his arms and ejaculated:
“Oh! dear Mesopotamia! Whatever will become of massa, I wonder?”
The negroes wanted to be free, but they did not want to work. Many of them who had run away from their masters were employed by the Federals in unloading stores. They worked from daylight until dark, singing over it, talking, shouting, arguing, making such a shindy. A Virginian negro never did a quarter of a day’s work on his master’s plantations, and they soon found out the difference when they became free niggers and earned wages. They did not much relish their rise. A party of niggers would come up to the Colonel’s tent.
“Well, boys, what made you leave your master? Wasn’t he kind to you?”
“Oh yes, massa berry kind—berry kind indeed.”
“Well, didn’t he give you enough to eat?”
“Oh yes, plenty of dat, plenty of dat—’nuff to eat.”
“Well, boys, what made you leave him?”
“Why, de trufe am dat he made us work ’mong sugar-canes,” said one.
“And we heerd ’bout de Norf am such a nice place, so we tort dat we would go to um,” said another.
“Nice place? Why, how do you mean a nice place?”
“Well, sah, we was told dat nobody did no work up dar.”
Even the white peasants in Virginia seemed to be lazy and indolent. They lived in little cabins, and only the very young or old were left, as every able-bodied man was in the army. They were dressed in homespun and spoke with a drawl. They did not wish to be richer, content with one acre and a single cow—Tories of a most old-fashioned kind; and the women, like the Boers, were far more dangerous rebels than the men, and tried to entrap unwary Federals when they got them drinking in their houses.
All round by the river four miles from Richmond was a succession of dark swamp, yellow field, and brown hill-side. Batteries were placed on all the ridges, guarded on either side by woods and in front by earthworks. The Confederates on the other side of the river had fewer trees but stronger earthworks. On the 1st of June there was an artillery duel, begun by the Richmond batteries, but they had to beat a retreat into the woods before the precision of some German gunners. Sometimes the pickets of both armies were so close to each other that they made an agreement not to fire at one another. Then they got to exchanging newspapers and tobacco, telling the news, and altogether behaving as if they were rational human beings, and not machines sent to kill one another for political ideals far beyond their ken. Once when a New Jersey regiment was upon picket Federal scouts were being served with their allowance of coffee, and one of these latter observing a Southerner gazing wistfully at his smoking cup, beckoned to him to come over and have a drink. He came, drank, smacked his lips, and walked slowly back. Then he looked round and said:
“I say, friend, how many times a month do you fellows get this good coffee?”
“Oh, just three times a day,” said the Jersey man.
“Three times a day! Why, if that’s true I’ll not stay a day longer in the Confederate Army. Here, lad, I give myself up.” And the fellow actually let his friend take him prisoner.
On the 20th of June General McClellan reported that he had 156,839 men, but he could get no reinforcements, and the armies of the South were increasing. The rains were making quagmires all around, and disease was rife among the troops. About this time the Confederate General Stuart led a successful raid with 1,200 horse andtwo pieces of artillery round the rear of the Federals, driving in their cavalry pickets till he came to Garlick’s Landing, where he destroyed two schooners and many waggons and captured many prisoners. One Federal—a German Dragoon—scorned to fly with his comrades, and fought a duel with a Texan trooper. The German was a veteran in the wars of Europe, and attacked the Texan, who was a little in advance of his troop. Both were skilled swordsmen, and while they fought the rest pulled rein and looked on. The German sat his horse as if he were a part of the animal and wielded his sword with parry, cut, and thrust like lightning flash. The Texan, on his fleet barb, wheeled swiftly round and round, seeking in vain for an opening. At last the Texan slashed the German’s shoulder, and as blood spirted from the wound the Texans, looking on, raised a cheer. But as quick as thought, with a back-stroke the German cut through the sleeve and flesh of the Texan’s left arm, and his blood began to flow. Then the Texan backed his horse and spurred again upon his opponent, making a lunge at his breast. This the Dragoon parried with great dexterity, and brought down his sharp blade upon the other’s shoulder. Thereat the Texan wheeled his horse once more, drew a pistol and shot the Dragoon through the heart.
A Duel between a Texan and a GermanAfter a successful raid by the Southerners, the Federals had almost all fled, but one—a German dragoon—scorned to do so, and instead attacked a Texan. The other Southerners let them fight a duel, and the German was having the best of it, when the Texan drew a pistol and shot him dead.
A Duel between a Texan and a GermanAfter a successful raid by the Southerners, the Federals had almost all fled, but one—a German dragoon—scorned to do so, and instead attacked a Texan. The other Southerners let them fight a duel, and the German was having the best of it, when the Texan drew a pistol and shot him dead.
A Duel between a Texan and a German
After a successful raid by the Southerners, the Federals had almost all fled, but one—a German dragoon—scorned to do so, and instead attacked a Texan. The other Southerners let them fight a duel, and the German was having the best of it, when the Texan drew a pistol and shot him dead.
Colonel Estran, a Prussian officer in the service of the South, who witnessed this scene, but disapproved of the Texan having recourse to his pistol, writes thus: “Much moved by his fate, I ordered a grave to receive the remains of the brave German trooper. We buried him in his regimentals, with his trusty sword on his breast and his pistols by his side. I then sent for the Texan, and, after reprimanding him severely for his cowardly conduct, I ordered him to seek service in some other corps, telling him that I could not think of allowing a fellow of hisstamp to remain in my regiment. The Texan scowled at me with his cat-like eyes, and, muttering a curse, mounted his horse and rode away.”
I think some of us may deem that the Texan was hardly treated by this Prussian officer who felt so indignant at the shooting of the German trooper. The Texan had received two severe wounds. He was not bound to fight only with the sword. He carried pistols; so did the German. Why? if they were not to be used, why carry them? It was the Texan’s duty to kill the German, and he did so. No wonder the poor fellow muttered a curse.
Days of disaster were coming for the Northern Army. They were spread along the river and through the swamps for more than twenty miles. The South could sally out of Richmond and strike any one point before support could be sent up. Part of the army was north of the river, part south. They dared not march on Richmond, now so strongly fortified, and to retreat was fatal. General Jackson had joined General Lee, and every day there was fierce fighting. In the battle of Gaine’s Mill, where the North lost twenty-two guns, the Federal General Butterfield at a critical moment came coolly down the knoll in the thick of a hot fire, and sword in hand, seized the colours, waved them aloft, and so encouraged the valour of his regiment, shouting:
“Your ammunition is never exhausted while you have your bayonets; and use them to the socket, my boys!”
Seventy thousand men were hurling grape, canister, and bullet against 30,000. It was one loud and continuous roar. It was only gradually that it was forced upon the Federal troops that they were beaten and were in full retreat to the James River.
Battles are like games of chess. The great thing is to bring as many pieces into play as you can and massthem on one or two points. The Federals had over 100,000 fighting men, but only 30,000 were engaged in the battle of Gaine’s Mill.
On the 28th McClellan wrote to the Secretary for War: “I have lost the battle because my force was too small. If I save this army now I tell you plainly that I owe no thanks to you or to any other person in Washington. You have done your best to sacrifice this army.”
The Federal rearguard did their best to cover the retreat. They blew up the ammunition which had to be deserted, emptied the barrels of whisky and molasses, bent the muskets, and dismantled the forsaken waggons. But the roads were thronged with the sick and wounded, and hundreds lay down to die in the awful sun.
Ever the victorious South were riding in upon them and making havoc. On one of these charges General Butterfield, seeing the utter misery and downheartedness of the men, gathered together all the regimental bands and placed them at the head of a brigade. In one great burst of sound, which rose above the clamour of the battle, they started “The Star-spangled Banner.” With the first few notes the men’s spirits rose and a new energy came to them. They stepped out and sang lustily, and other regiments caught the brave infection and cheered in chorus.
Such are the uses of music in war. In our own regiments in the Boer War, when the men got weary with the long march, a Colonel would shout to his sergeants: “Have you any men who can sing? Put them in front.” Then the regiment would step out and forget their weariness.
TheRichmond Dispatchdescribes the battle-field thus: “Money was found abundantly among the slain. One man found not less than 150 dollars in gold. One lucky finder had no less than six chronometers ticking in hispocket at the same time. Our men seemed to take great delight in assuming Federal officers’ uniforms, and strutted about serio-comically, much to the amusement of powder-begrimed youths who sat lolling and smoking in the shade. The cannon and arms captured in this battle were numerous and of very superior workmanship. The twenty-six pieces were the most beautiful we have ever seen, while immense piles of guns could be seen on every hand, many even hardly tarnished.”
The road to James River was strewn with stragglers, tired to death. Hospitals were filled to overflowing. When they came to White Oak Swamp Bridge there was a block of waggons, cannon, ambulances, etc. Twenty rows of waggons stood side by side; teamsters swore, and horses gibbed, and officers shouted.
A Confederate officer, writing of the battle of Malvern Hill, describes how the gunboats on the James River helped the Federal retreat, how shot from rifled guns came hurtling through the woods, tearing down the largest trees. “We passed over four lines of our own men who lay close to the ground and dare not rise to face the grape and canister. Our men trampled them into the mud like logs. One man in his haste to get out of danger shoved me on one side, and just at that instant a canister-shot tore his head off. As you may suppose, I was not much vexed at his want of politeness. Early next morning I rode over the battle-ground. I came upon numbers of dead and dying horses—and the wounded! One, a fair-haired Yankee boy of sixteen, was lying with both legs broken, half of his body submerged in water, his teeth clenched, his finger-nails buried in the flesh, his whole body quivering with agony and benumbed with cold. In this case my pity got the better of my resentment, and I dismounted, pulled him out of the water and wrapped him in my blanket, for which he seemed verygrateful. One of the most touching things I saw was a couple of brothers, both wounded, who had crawled together, and one of them, in the act of arranging a pillow for the other with a blanket, had fallen. They had died with their arms around one another, and their cheeks together. But your heart will sicken at these details, as mine did at seeing them, and I will cease.”
The word “resentment” in this letter reveals the bitter feeling that springs up when men of the same nation are at war. The battle of Malvern Hill was the fiercest of the seven days’ battles, and the loss on both sides was terrible. When the troops came in sight of James River, muddy current and low banks, they rushed down with mad impetuosity. Many plunged into the stream in a very frenzy of delight. Those who for hours had suffered agonies from thirst now stood knee-deep in the water and drank like fish. The horses were as delighted as the men, and neighed to their friends. Here the troops rested and enjoyed the supplies sent up from White House. But a storm came on the 2nd of July and changed all to mud and sticky surfaces; but the sound gave up their tents to the wounded, and soon many steamers took the poor victims of the fight to a more comfortable abode.
McClellan had lost 15,000 men in the awful struggle of the last seven days, but the South had suffered more heavily, and Richmond was crowded with the wounded and dying. The President thanked the General in a letter, saying: “I am satisfied that yourself, officers, and men have done the best you could.”
It was not until three years after this—in April, 1865—that Richmond was evacuated by General Lee before Generals Grant and Sheridan. President Davis was in church when an orderly, splashed with mud, walked up the aisle and handed him a paper. In the first glance hesaw that all was over, and a few hours after he was in full flight. On Monday morning Weitzel with his army, composed partly of coloured troops, marched into Richmond with bands playing. The city had been fired and the stores plundered. Main Street was in ruins, and the bridges over the river were broken. A thousand prisoners were taken and 500 pieces of artillery.
It is said that the coloured troops entered Richmond with proud gait and shouts of ecstasy, welcomed enthusiastically by their dusky brethren who thronged the streets. They laughed and shouted, prayed and wept, and kissed one another in a delirium of happiness. They thought that now at last the white races would acknowledge their equality; but the world has not yet got rid of its old prejudices, and their sun of happiness was doomed to suffer an eclipse. In a few days Lee surrendered. The Federals first heard the news from the cheers of the poor famished army of the South. Twenty-two thousand—all that was left of them—stacked their arms and filed past in a great and solemn silence. The cruel, devastating war was over. Now was seen the strange spectacle of the enemy sharing their rations with a conquered foe. They were no longer North and South now: they were all Americans—citizens once more of the United States, destined, perhaps, in a not distant future to teach Europe that peace is better than war, love is stronger than hate, God’s kingdom supreme over the transient empires of this little world.
The Germans invest Paris—Trochu’s sortie fails—The English ambulance welcomed—A Prince’s visit to the wounded—In the snow—Madame Simon—A brave Lieutenant—Piano and jam—The big guns begin—St. Denis—Old Jacob writes to the Crown Prince—A dramatic telegram—Spy fever—Journalists mobbed.
After the French Emperor was defeated and taken prisoner at Sedan a revolution broke out in Paris, and the terms of peace which had been agreed upon were refused by the Parisians. So the Germans marched on Paris, arriving on the 18th of September. By the end of October 240,000 men began to encircle the ring of fifteen outer forts which guarded Paris.
Trochu was the Governor of Paris. On the 30th of September he made a vigorous sortie across the Marne, to the south-east, where he hoped to join the French army of the Loire, and also at the same time to relieve Paris of some hungry mouths.
But the grip of the Germans was too strong. They had been allowed time to strengthen their positions, and the sortie failed, though the great guns of the forts had boomed and crashed until they were glowing hot.
An English ambulance under Mr. Young and CaptainFurley was received by the German doctor with great enthusiasm, for medical comforts were growing scarce in the field hospital.
The stores were carried into the doctor’s own room, and as the box of sundries was unpacked it was splendid to see the delight of the good man.
“Porter,” he cried—“ganz gut! Ale—ganz gut! Chloroform—ach Gott! Twelve hundred cigars—du lieber Gott!” and his hands and eyes went up in delight and gratitude.
The woollen clothing alone must have saved many lives. After supper that evening the German doctor got up and made a little speech.
“Gentlemen, some people go about and make large promises which are never fulfilled. What an example of the contrary we have now before us! Mr. Young and Captain Furley heard of our state; they let no red tape stand in their way, and now this afternoon there comes jogging up our avenue a waggon bringing what is health—nay, what is life—to our poor sick and wounded. Here is the Englander all over, gentlemen—the bulldog that has no wind to spare in superfluous barking.”
The officers present raised their glasses and shouted “Hochs!” for the English ambulance. It is pleasant to hear of such comradeship between men of different nations.
The next day we are told that, after desperate fighting, the Head-quarters Staff of the German 12th Army Corps sat down to a very sombre dinner-table and spoke to one another in hushed voices, for many chairs were empty this dinner-time that had been occupied at breakfast. Not a man in the room but had lost dear friends, and many had lost kinsmen, and some had brothers lying out on the snow. On the forenoon of the fourth day there were found eight poor wretches who had survived the inclemency of two nights’ hard frost. Frostbitten, they lived two days after they were found.
The Germans, after two days’ hard fighting, drove the French back into Paris, with the loss of 6,000 men; but they themselves were very disheartened.
Their loss in officers was very large. The 108th Regiment lost thirty-six officers out of forty-five. In the knapsacks of the French soldiers were found provisions for six days, showing that they had hoped to co-operate with the Southern Army of the Loire.
One day the Prince of Saxe-Weimar went to visit the wounded Würtembergers, a big man and a kindly heart. He went round with a box of cigars under his arm, asking each patient, “Can you smoke?” It was pitiful to see how they all tried to smoke, though some were too weak to enjoy their weed. Now the Prince comes upon a stalwart under officer.
“Are you married?”
“No, Highness; but my mother—she has three sons down, all wounded, and it might be bad for her.”
The Prince took out a gold piece.
“Here, my man, send that to the mother, and let her know it comes from your Queen.”
It seems that the Germans had quite mistaken the amount of provisions existing in Paris. According to their calculations by the middle of December Paris ought to be feeling very hungry, on salt rations at the very best. They had not yet prepared for a bombardment with siege guns, hoping that Lady Famine would drive the Parisians to surrender. But they made no sign.
Down at Argenteuil, on the north-west of Paris, there was the crackling of the chasse-pot from over the river, and yet most of the population had come back to their shops. They gossiped in the streets with French gaiety and unconcern, while the bullets sang overhead prettyfreely. The steeple of their beautiful church made a good observatory, though its sides were riddled with holes made by shells. The French peasants drove their carts into the market-place below the church and sold eggs and butter full merrily; yet somehow, if a German stood at a window to gaze out, the French sharpshooters would aim at him. At Lagny there were generally 1,000 prisoners a day passing through to Germany. Some were so ravenous with hunger that they stooped to pick up turnip-tops and bones from the gutter, until the British Society organized a relief with stores of preserved meat and bread. And there was no hospital for the wounded! the poor creatures were dumped down in sheds, vans, the station-rooms, the church, themairie. In one day there arrived 1,800 wounded. They were bestowed—frozen, hungry, hopeless—in the cold comfort of the church. Madame Simon, the lady superintendent of the Saxon ambulance, did noble things day and night—a most devoted woman. There were feats of quiet bravery done every day. There was a colporteur of the English Bible Society who used to drive his waggon on a road between Gonesse and Aulnay, a road exposed to shell-fire more than most.
“Yes,” he said, “it is a good time for the men to read good words when they are standing with the shadow of death hanging over them.”
There is a story of a boy Lieutenant, von Schramm, who found himself suddenly in a crowd of Frenchmen. He leapt from his horse and hid in a house, in the hope of escaping by the back-door; but his pursuers caught him, and were taking him towards St. Denis, which lies to the north of Paris. In going through the park of Le Bourget the officer who carried von Schramm’s sword was shot and fell. The boy made a dash for his own sword, grasped the hilt and cut down the man on his other side, rushed forthe small lake, dived to avoid pursuing bullets, and swam safely across to rejoin his regiment. The strange thing was that he had been on the sick-list before his winter ducking, but now he was blessed with a boy’s appetite.
It spoke well for the German besiegers that they got on so cordially with the villagers round Paris. These were mostly of the humbler sort; or servants left behind to take care of their master’s house. There were lovely country houses inhabited by a few German officers, and, were it not for the rents made by shot and shell, the owners would not have grumbled much at their condition when they returned to them, though, of course, there were cases where the boisterous fun of German Lieutenants played havoc with ormolu and gilding. I remember hearing[A]of a grand piano which gave forth reluctant sounds when the notes were pressed down. It was discovered that the strings had been plentifully smeared with jams and sweetmeats! But these jests were the exception.
The bombardment by the big guns had begun late in December with much excited wonder on the part of the Germans. Surely in a few days the Parisians will have had enough of exploding shells! Now here was almost the middle of January, and no effect visible. But the forts round Paris had no living population: no houses to be burnt, no women and children to mutilate. They had to be battered to bits, if possible; and Paris was behaving very heroically now. By the middle of January she was living very poorly indeed, but she endured yet another fifteen days longer.
As for the German soldiers, they began now to feel bored to death, as so often happens in a long siege. The first excitement evaporates; each day’s unlovely duties recur with abominable sameness—and the Germans could find no beer to drink. A German is used to drink plentyof beer, and can carry it without ill effects; but when Fritz took to drinking rum, schnapps, or arrack, he began to reel about the village streets and look rather disreputable.
It was a strange sight to mount some hill and get a view of Paris surrounded by its fifteen forts, and in a yet wider circle by the German lines. The foam of white smoke surged up all round; the thundering roar of cannon, the dull echo of distant guns made dismal music to the ear. The air of Paris is so clear compared to our English cities that all was quite visible; and now that wood was scarce and fires few, it was easy to mark the outlines of the larger buildings, though above them hung a brown pall of smoke, caused by exploding shells or houses that had caught fire.
Day after day there were rumours of this or that fort having been silenced. Now it was St. Denis, on the north side; now Valérien, on the west; now Vincennes, on the east; but the respite was only given to cool the guns or renew the emplacements, and all was as it had been. Besides this there was the daily fear of a new sortie, as Issy or Ivry broke out into fierce clamour on the south-west and south-east. Then troops would be hurriedly transferred along frozen or sometimes muddy roads, while splinters of shell were whizzing about rather too familiarly.
It was calculated that on a fierce day of firing the Germans shot away 10 tons of powder, and nearly 200 tons of heavy matter—iron and steel—were hurled upon the forts and city in twenty-four hours.
There is a story of the Crown Prince of Prussia which illustrates his kindness of heart. In the 3rd Würtemberg Dragoons was a certain Jacob, who had an aged and anxious father. This father had not heard from his son Jacob for so long a time that the old man, in his rustic simplicity, sat down and laboriously wrote a letter to theCrown Prince, asking, “Can Your Highness find out anything about my son?” The old man knew his son had fought at Wörth and at Sedan, but nothing later than Sedan. The Crown Prince did not throw this letter into the waste-paper basket, but sent it to the officer commanding the 3rd Würtembergers, requesting that the old man’s mind should be set at ease. Jacob was sent for by his commanding officer and asked why he had not written home.
“Do you know that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince wants to know why you have not written home for many weeks?”
The man saluted. His purple face was a study.
“Go and write instantly, and bring the envelope to me, sirrah.”
How that story got about among the men! How often has the same experience come to house-masters, when some loving mother appeals for help: “Please make Harry write home.” Both Harry and Fritz need a touch of the spur at times, but how promptly the letter is written when they feel that touch!
The town of St. Denis suffered terribly. The front of the theatre was in ruins. The cathedral, being banked up high with sand-bags, had not suffered so much. The tombs of the kings had all been thus protected, so had the statues, and not even a nose had been knocked off. But the bombardment had shattered many houses and churches, and the shells had ploughed up the streets, or rather hoed them into holes. It was only in the cold and dark cellars that safety could be found. Even there people were not always safe, and when they were pressed to take refuge in Paris they peeped forth shuddering, and swore they would rather die in their own cellars than sally forth through a tempest of shell-fire.
“At nine o’clock on the evening of the 28th of January,1871, while the Head-quarters Staff of the Maes Army were assembled in the drawing-rooms of the Crown Prince’s château after dinner, an orderly brought in a telegram to the Crown Prince. His Royal Highness, having read it, handed it to General von Schlottheim, the Chief of the Staff. That officer perused it in his turn, and then rising, walked to the door communicating between the billiard-room and the saloon, and there read the telegram aloud. It was from the Emperor, and it announced that, two hours before, Count Bismarck and M. Jules Favre had set their hands to a convention, in terms of which an armistice to last for twenty-one days had already come into effect.”
This startling news meant that Paris was ready to surrender. How many hearts were lighter in both camps next day! War is not all glory and heroic achievement. Those who know what war is pray to God that statesmen and nations may think twice before they rush into so terrible a calamity. In this war of 180 days the Germans had won fifteen great victories, captured twenty-six fortresses, and made 363,000 prisoners.
“Paris is utterly cowed, fairly beaten”—so they said who came from Paris to the German lines, and a few non-combatants, journalists, and philanthropists, ventured to enter the city before the German troops passed in on the 1st of March. They found the streets crowded with men in uniform. The food shops had nothing to sell. There were a few sickly preserves, nothing solid worth eating—some horses’ fat for a delicacy to help down the stuff they called bread. A fowl was priced at forty-five francs; stickleback were fourteen francs a pound; butter, forty francs a pound. Outside the bakers’ shops stood a shivering line of ladies and women, waiting their turn for loaves that tasted like putty, and pulled to pieces like chopped straw.
But there were in side streets many of the roughest, the most cowardly and cruel ruffians of the worst parts of Paris. They were on the prowl, waiting for their prey; so no wonder that Mr. Archibald Forbes, journalist, and several others in divers parts of the city had unpleasant experiences.
Forbes tells us he was walking down the Champs Elysées when he met the Crown Prince of Saxony with his staff riding by. Forbes raised his hat; the Prince returned the salute and passed on. But the dirtygaminsof Paris had been looking on. They hustled the Englishman, called himmouchard(spy),sacré Prussien,cochon, tripped him up, hit him on the back of the head with a stick; then, when he was down, they jumped on his stomach with their sabots or wooden shoes. He struggled, as a Scotsman can, got up, hit out right and left; but numbers prevailed, and he was dragged by the legs on his back, with many bumps and bruises, to the police-station. There he showed his papers, and the Prefect released him in a humour that said, “I am mighty glad you Parisians have had a good thrashing.”
Another journalist—so he told me in London a few weeks later—also had ventured to stray away from the German sentries in order to see what Paris thought of a siege. He soon found himself the centre of an angry throng.
Some cried: “He is asacré Prussien! See his yellow hair!”
“No; I am an English artist,” shouted my friend, still smiling.
“He is a confounded spy! Take him to the Seine! duck him in the river!”
They dragged him towards the river-bank. Out of his eye corners my friend saw several boys pick up stones to help him to sink. He thought his last hour was come. They were close to the river: the water looked very cold.Then there came to his ears the “tuck” of a drum. A company of French soldiers was marching by; a Colonel on horseback rode beside them.
The artist recognized him, for they had once chummed together near Metz. He called to him by name, and the Colonel cried “Halt!”
He spurred his horse through the evil-smelling crowd, and seeing who it was whom the rascals were going to plunge into the Seine, held up his hand and cried:
“Let that English gentleman go. He is no Prussian, but an artist who has drawn my portrait—mine, I tell you—for the London journals. He is my friend—an English friend, like Mr. Wallace.”
This testimony was enough for them. The excitable crowd flew to the opposite extreme. Those who had made ready to stone him like a water-rat now dropped those stones, and rushing up with remorse and even affection in their changed looks, threw fusty arms round his neck, kissed him on both cheeks, sobbed and cried for forgiveness for their little mistake.
Indeed it is not safe to enter too soon into a conquered city.
From “My Experiences of the War,” by Archibald Forbes. With the kind permission of Messrs. Hurst and Blackett.