Читать книгу Life with Mother - Day Clarence - Страница 5

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Mother was only eight years old in April 1861, when the Civil War started, but all her four brothers were older, and two of them went to the front. Brutus Stockwell, the youngest, was away at school, in France. Alden, the eldest, was tied up in business in Cleveland, where the first shiploads of ore had begun to arrive from the Great Lakes. But Levi got a commission in the navy and served under Farragut, and Norris was one of the youngest captains of infantry to march with Sherman through Georgia. All four brothers were lively by nature--athletic, red-headed men.

The Stockwells lived in Ohio, the Days in New York, and in the sixties the two families never had heard of each other. Physically they were rather alike. Father was athletic and lively, and he had red hair too, but he was only sixteen when the war began and Grandpa didn't want him to go. Grandpa, though he had voted for Lincoln, had hoped that war wouldn't come, and when it did come he was disgusted--but Grandpa was fifty. Father wasn't disgusted, he was interested and pleased. He was working downtown in New York, in Gwynne & Day's office, the firm in which his elder brother was the junior partner. In the evenings when he came home from business he sat by the lamp in his bedroom and made elaborate drawings of soldiers in one of his schoolboy notebooks. I found it among his papers years afterward--a thick, square, well-made old blank-book, full of sums in arithmetic, and clippings from Civil War newspapers, and drawings by Father of cannon and bearded Zouaves.

Father's patriotism however was tempered with humour, and he seems to have been extraordinarily tickled by the fun Grandpa made of "top-lofty" patriots. At any rate he cut out many of the most biting articles that Grandpa kept publishing, and pasted them in that fat blank-book, alongside his own warlike drawings.

When Father was seventeen he decided to join the old Seventh Regiment. It was characteristic of him to look over the ground before he did anything and then do it in what he considered the very best way, and the Seventh was generally regarded as the best in the country. Its ranks were full, he found at the armoury, but vacancies occurred now and then, because, as there was a shortage of officers in the new armies, the older members of the Seventh, even the privates, were in demand for these jobs. It was about the nearest thing that they had, in the sixties, to an officers' training corps. Father put his name down on the waiting list and went back to his office.

Half the best young men in New York wanted to get into the Seventh. Even the newspapers in London had spoken admiringly of the "world-renowned Seventh Regiment." And when President Buchanan made a speech to them, before the election of Lincoln, he had felt so moved that he said: "The stout, hardy, noble and defiant look which you exhibit shows that in the day and hour of battle you would be at the very front."

The Seventh had tried to get to the very front when the war started. It had sprung to arms and gone to the defence of Washington as soon as Sumter was fired on. A week later, however, when all real danger to the city was over and plenty of other troops had arrived, the Seventh felt that its object had been accomplished and that it might as well go back home.

At this point the government asked it to enlist for three months in the army. This didn't seem fair to the Seventh. They had been distinctly assured, when they started, that they would only be away for two weeks. They at once held a meeting, however, and voted on this. They decided to enlist as a body, and to serve thirty days.

When this thirty-day period was over, the men entrained and came home. "The lower classes" made unpleasant remarks about their return, but the regiment was welcomed all the more warmly by all the best citizens.

In 1862 when Stonewall Jackson burst into the Shenandoah Valley, and it looked as though he might capture Washington, the government requested the Seventh to help out again. By this time Father had been elected a member. He got a leave of absence from Gwynne & Day and went off, as a private in Company D.

Unfortunately, at least from Father's point of view, Stonewall Jackson subsided, and instead of seeing action in the field the Seventh was put into barracks near Baltimore. And as though this wasn't bad enough the Secretary of War then requested the regiment, instead of enlisting for thirty days this time, to stay for three months.

Nobody liked the prospect of sitting there for three months in barracks. Father wrote to his mother that his company had been sent to Mt. Clare Station where they slept in the open, and as it was damp and cold he added, "I wish you would send me a coloured nightcap and some segars."

It wasn't certain whether the regiment would be willing to stay on or not. "I don't think I could stay," Father wrote, "on account of my business, for I don't think Gwynne and Day could very well spare me for as long as that."

(He was seventeen, going on eighteen, and here he was already talking this way and smoking "segars.")

In his next letter he sounds somewhat younger.

"I hope it will be over with soon," he wrote, "as I shall not stay more than a month, but that is not saying I'm homesick for I can get along very well.

"I received your box of things yesterday. The cake, etc. was very much appreciated in 'our mess' and also the lemons, with which I made some lemonade last night and it tasted first rate as I was very thirsty and the water is not very good, being limey, which is not grammatically correct but still will express what I wish to say. About 12 o'clock night before last it commenced raining and rained all day yesterday in perfect torrents, and most of last night. My tent got pretty well water-soaked and commenced leaking, and in an hour or so the floor was as wet as thunder and we had to huddle all together to keep dry, and even in that manner we got very damp. I tell you, Mother, boards are a perfect luxury, at least I thought so when we got our board floor up last Sunday, after sleeping two or three nights in wet straw.

"We have our tent fitted up very nicely; at the end opposite the door is a musket rack with a shelf on top, then there are two bunks on each side and one directly in front, in which I sleep. The bunks by the by consist of a knapsack for a pillow and a blanket spread out on the floor. From the top of the tent we have suspended two shelves one under the other on which we put our dishes, and in the centre we have a table, all of which we made ourselves so we think a great deal of them on that account.

"I wish you would send some lemons, oranges, ginger snaps, cake, and if possible a nice pie, which last luxury I have not seen since leaving N. Y., also some segars as I have but two left, and some sugar. The sugar I would prefer to be ordinary brown sugar rather than the kind you sent before. Those shoes are splendid being large and easy.

"Hoping to hear from home soon

"I am

"Your Afft Son."

On June 19th he wrote from Mt. Clare Station, "We are to be sworn in this afternoon." And lower down he added:

"Four hours later.

"We are Sworn in and I am now nothing but a 'volunteer' and a 'mudsill.' Our company being on detached duty was sworn in by itself, the regt being sworn in at the fort.

"There was but one man in our company who backed out and that was Brundage.

"Those members who remained at home will be referred to the Adjutant General of the State of N. Y. and will be dealt with according to the law."

As they had agreed to enlist for three months, Father added: "I suppose I have lost my situation at G & D's. Well, it is my sacrifice in this war; but I don't think they are very patriotic because most all the other houses who have clerks in this regt are saving their places for them and continuing their salaries. In regard to my washing I get that done by women who come to the Fort for it. I get down to the city once in a while and take a good bath and eat a good dinner and all together I manage to get along very well. Our rations are very short sometimes and occasionally we have only bread and tea for supper.

"Today I was down to the house of Winans the Secesh with a member of our company who is intimately acquainted with them. His family (Winan's) are Union but he is Secesh. While there I had some very nice cherries--invited to come again. Hoping to hear from you very soon as letters from home no matter how short are a very great source of gratification,

"I am, Your Afft Son."

Three days later his company got back to its barracks, and he found that box of things waiting. But: "I was very much disappointed on opening the box to find the pies all mouldy," he wrote, "and after eating one or two of them on top and coming to the third or fourth I couldn't go them and even the very niggers would not eat them and I had to throw them away.

"In regard to the segars Father sent they were very acceptable indeed. I guess I shan't sell any of them as I have plenty of room in my knapsack." (Apparently cigars were not shared as freely as cigarettes are to-day.)

"I have great trouble in keeping my dishes. I have none of them left except my plate that I brought away from N. Y. I have lost two or three sets of knives, forks and spoons and one cup; at present I am using a knife without a handle, and a fork with the tines broken half off.

"The pail which you sent the pies in comes very useful indeed, but I wish you had sent a whole saucer instead of that broken one."

"Fort Federal Hill,

"Baltimore, July 15/62.

"Dear Mother,

"It is very hot indeed to-day and was yesterday.

"Yesterday we had a long battalion Drill and the Lt.-Col. only stopped when one of the 8th Co. was sun struck and several in the different companies dropped from the heat. I did not go on drill and would not on such a hot day and I expected to be put on guard to-day as a punishment but was not however as there were too many of my opinion. Colonel Lefferts is absent and Lt.-Col. Price is in command and I think over uses his power which I infer from the drill of yesterday because if the Col. had been here he would not have had any drill at all on such a scorching day.

"Those pickles you sent were very good indeed and came very nice with dinner.

"Someone stole most all my cakes and those crullers and cookies you sent and I did not get more than twenty of the whole lot and that had to go among four of us."

Father's next letter was about Lieutenant-Colonel Price, who, according to a contemporary record, was an obstinate little man with a shrill voice. He had been born in London, he was precise in his habits and quick and erect in his movements, he wore a chin beard with no moustache, and he was in the real-estate business.

"The boys are down on him," Father wrote. "He either mistakes the men he has to deal with or else wishes to show his power; but he will have to be pretty sharp to get ahead of the boys. To-night he sent out some prisoners that were detained in the guard house, for some petty offences, to haul down the flag at retreat; they hauled down flag, rope, and everything, the consequence is that it will take about half a day to fix it up again and unless the boys have a mind to they won't put it up as they can't force any man to climb up such a high pole as that and endanger his life." (Not in wartime!)

"PS.," Father added. "Last night, the boys collected around the Colonel's quarters and sung sonnets on Lieut.-Col. Price which were not very complimentary to him. I just received Father's letter. Ask him to send me Pickwick Abroad or some good novel in paper covers."

"Aug. 16/62.

"Dear Father,

"I received your letter to-day enclosing $4 Baltimore money.

"Yesterday I was on guard and I hope it will be the last time. Another steamboat load of wounded soldiers came up from Ft. Munroe. If the Irish attempt any riot in N. Y. after a fair and impartial draft I think they had better send the whole crowd of those concerned in the riot off to the war, whether they have been drafted or not.

"PS. Instead of the Waverly send the Sunday Times and please send it Monday."

A week or two later the regiment's three months were over, and it came back to New York, and again it was welcomed with cheers, although not quite so warmly.

In later years, when Mother came across these old letters of Father's, she spoke in quite a critical tone about them, much to his surprise. "Was that all you did, Clare?" she asked him, at dinner one evening. "Didn't they call out the Seventh again?"

Father said yes, the Seventh went South for about a month in 1863, but he and a lot of others had known better that time than to start, until they saw whether the regiment was going to barracks or battle. Wouldn't be worth their while to go, their idea was, unless there was a chance to see action, and when it turned out to be those same old Baltimore barracks, all these members stayed home.

Mother said that her brothers hadn't been home except when they got a furlough, and that even after Levi was captured he had got out of prison and gone back to his ship.

Father replied that as for Levi and Norris, there was no reason why they shouldn't serve--they had had nothing else to do, probably. As for himself, not only had he been busy at the office but he had used common sense, and he had formed a poor opinion while in barracks of the way in which wars were run. He said that Mother was only a woman and knew nothing about it, and furthermore that nothing would have induced him to serve for four years unless they had let him take charge of things and run the damned war himself.

Mother said she still couldn't understand what the Seventh kept coming home for. "Why didn't they stay down there and fight?"

As there didn't seem to be any answer to this that would satisfy her, Father closed the discussion by saying that so far as he was concerned he was not a French peasant. He said that he was an American, and he didn't intend to serve as a pawn to be moved around a chess-board by anybody. He admired the farmers of Lexington and Concord, he said, who had swarmed out like a nestful of hornets, done their work and gone home, and he had done exactly the same at the first opportunity. He seemed to feel satisfied that he had made a very good hornet.