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| ISBN-13: | 9780870139567 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Michigan State University Press |
| Publication date: | 06/01/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 386 KB |
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THE POETRY OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR
Michigan State University Press
Copyright © 2013 Michigan State University PressAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-61186-043-6
Chapter One
The War Scene
I. THE WORK OF DEATH
Although Civil War poets frequently used the war as a convenient sounding-board for their ideas concerning society, religion, man's place in the universe, a considerable number strove to capture something of the immediacy of war and its impact on soldiers and their families. Very few of the poems which resulted from this effort, however, approach a vivid realism, since poets, in keeping with the sentimental and melodramatic temper of their era, characteristically employed a highly colored diction in describing the war scene.
The clash of arms provided one of the more popular subjects. Some poets poetically described specific battles which had captured their imaginations. Others, usually in amusingly sketchy fashion, recounted the military highlights of the entire war. A third group of poets treated battles in what might be termed the history-of-the-campaign approach. These poets were usually soldiers who put into verse, frequently of a humorously poor quality, the history of their regiment. The full title of George S. Rutherford's Poetic History (Muscatine, Iowa, 1863) typifies the aim of these soldier-poets: The Poetic History of the Seventh Iowa Regiment, Containing All Its Principal Marches, and All the Battles They Have Been Engaged in, from the Day of Their Entering Service to the Present Time. Composed and Written by One of Their Number Who Has Passed through, or Borne His Part in, Nearly All the Scenes He Has Described. George E. Reed's Campaign of the Sixth Army Corps Summer of 1863 (Philadelphia, 1864) and the anonymous A Journal of Incidents Connected with the Travels of the Twenty-Second Regiment Conn. Volunteers, for Nine Months. In Verse. By an Orderly Sergeant (Hartford, 1863) lie in the same tradition. That these poets accomplished their task in thirty-five pages or less indicates that one should not expect an over attention to detail from these veterans of the campaign.
The reunions of regiments, which were being held before the decade closed, afforded other soldier-poets an excuse to give poetic histories of the campaigns. E. E. Ewing thus wrote The Story of the Ninety-First. Read at a Re-Union of the Ninety-First Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry, Held at Portsmouth, Ohio, April 8, 1868, in Response to the Toast, "Our Bond of Union" (Portsmouth, O., 1868); and Samuel B. Summer read A Poem Delivered at the Reunion of the Forty-Ninth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, at Pittsfield, Mass., May 23, 1867 (Springfield, Mass., 1867).
Excerpts from George S. Rutherford's Poetic History of the Seventh Iowa Regiment represent the treatment given the war by various soldiers. Entering service July 16, 1861, the regiment, at the time Rutherford wrote his history in 1863, had seen action in the major engagements of Donelson, Shiloh, and Corinth. Although Rutherford describes these engagements, he is careful to avoid the impression—too frequently given by poets whose knowledge of army life had been garnered second-hand—that regiments did nothing except engage in one colorful, melodramatic clash of arms after another. Dividing his poetic history into twenty-four sections, Rutherford devotes ten sections to battles, five to the frequently hum-drum and inconvenient life in camp, and nine to the inevitably unpleasant marches the regiment was obliged to make. Rutherford's history, then, taken as a whole, constitutes an honest if amusingly prosaic attempt to tell the folks back home what it was like to be a member of the Seventh Iowa Regiment. What prompted Rutherford to tell his story in verse can be explained partially, if at all, through a realization that during the period of the Civil War the province of poetry was considerably wider than it has since become.
Rutherford begins his history by describing various movements in and around St. Louis. Next the poet describes the trip to Fort Henry and the Battle of Donelson. Following the surrender of the fort, the Seventh Iowa make a trip up the Tennessee River, camping at Mineral Landing. Then follows the excerpt printed below, in which Rutherford pictures the regiment marching, fighting, and living the everyday life of a military camp. Following these parts of the poem, Rutherford closes by describing the march to Iuka and the Battle of Corinth, during which battle, the author informs us, he received a ball in his leg, which set him "to spinning like a top on its peg." Rutherford closes by asking rhetorically, "Who can define what the future will be," and suggesting that, whoever may be in that enviable position, "'Tis not us poor mortals to a dead certainty."
Trip to Pittsburg Landing
Again our good regiment got under way,
And reached this good Landing in five or six days.
Thus, having arrived there all sickly or lame
We gladly did enter the forest again.
There the Seventh recovered their vigor once more,
By roaming the forest which here lines the shore,
For their senses were greeted with floral perfume
From sweet smelling blossoms the North has in June.
Battle of Shiloh
Soon war-clouds o'ershadowed this place of delight,
Whose horrors will sicken our once peaceful sight
From this battle now pending, long talked of before,
Will display all its fury on this peaceful shore.
The 6th, like a maiden all blooming and bright,
Dawned on us in splendor and gladdened our sight;
While drawn up in order and dressed in deep blue
According to custom for Sunday's review.
Our quick ears were greeted with war's sullen roar,
With its fatal delusions and streams of red gore—
Then our Colonels got orders and we must away,
To stand by our brothers in this bloody fray.
We advanced through the forest to give them our aid,
And soon found our brethren in battle arrayed.
Assuming the place by Generals assigned
Our presence was needed to fill up the line.
It was here our poor patience was severely tried,
For many long hours be war's bitter tide
With its many lead balls and canister shot
Killed and crippled our comrades on that very spot.
The tide of this battle first vered [sic] to the right;
And long rolling volleys in this quarter did light.
Sending death and destruction wherever it came.
Destroying on both sides by its withering flame.
Our men could not stand such a fire, you know,
But fell from the range of this terrible blow;
Swinging round from the front to establish new lines,
Made the rebels flank movement a success at the time.
Elated at this they bore down on our left,
And here as at first they met with success;
For our army fell back as a matter of course,
As the rebels press on them with superior force.
No other alternative for us could avail,
Than to break from the center and quickly turn tail
To avoid being taken we must break to the rear
And rally again on some other point near.
A few gallant soldiers were ready at hand
When our Colonel gave orders to make a new stand;
For a hundred brave hearts were not scattered by flight,
But stood by our banners that dark Sunday night.
The lurid light flashed as their batteries play,
And the missiles tore through our encampment to-day
Till our gunboats and seige guns, with terrible roar,
Made these haughty rebels retire from this shore.
Then as evening gave way to the shadows of night
The darkness was broken by streaks of red light
From bomb shells describing their course through the air,
Making sleep for the rebels a shabby affair.
Thus "night was make hideous" to friend and to foe
By half hour discharges from the gunboats below,
Together with thunder and rain pouring fast,
And the rattle of hailstones completed the blast.
Second Day's Battle
The Army of Buell came forth with the light,
And soon put a different face on this fight,
For those who had pushed us so hard the first day,
Before these fresh veterans fled off in dismay.
From seven till three, with steady advance,
Our cannons and muskets both play on their ranks—
This field being sprinkled with hundreds of dead
General Beauregard's army ingloriously fled.
Victory perched on our banners on this bloody field,
Yet by Patriot's blood was this victory sealed;
And mothers and maidens are weeping in pain
O'er their husbands and lovers so ruthlessly slain.
The Seventh Iowa, when the battle was o'er,
Returned to their quarters sadly jaded and sore
On Tuesday evening, and quickly they found
Their tents filled with wounded from the late battle ground.
No other alternative being at hand,
Our lodging was made on this rain spattered land
For nearly a week, with no shelter at all
But the forest above us to break the rain's fall.
A week of such treatment was bitter at best;
But the boats bore the wounded to some place of rest,
And leaving our tents to the owners once more,
The lords of these quarters moved in as before.
The rains at this season set in with a rush,
Making causeways and bottoms a vortex of slush,
Keeping back for a season our engines of war,
Till the sun dried the mud and the roads were repaired.
Brace Halleck came to us in Shiloh at last,
Making noise and confusion events of the past;
While his plain, honest face with intelligence shines,
As he makes observations along our whole line.
From the dawn of the morn to the shadows of night,
All men are kept busy preparing to strike
Another good blow for our country and flag
When order attended our army once more,
All firm and majestic they marched from the shore,
Over hills and on causeways, by them lately built,
And through tangled thickets for the enemy felt.
Against the arch traitors at Corinth, with Bragg.
It was thus by building our roads as we went,
Many days on this journey by our army was spent
Before we arrived within reach of the foe,
Who, before us, fell back to Corinth below.
When the distance to Corinth was just seven miles,
We threw up entrenchments and rested awhile;
Our General displaying good caution and care
In the lunch he intended should fall to their share.
But they slowly retired from our pioneers,
Who were backed by an army of brave volunteers,
Sent there for protection from the enemy's fire,
And these molesters of labor were compelled to retire.
A few days pass by and the way is make clear,
And our mighty army through the wilderness steer;
Yet this little journey, like others, must end
Where spades and good axes are make to defend.
More roads are made passable ere we advance
To a point of attack—a good one perchance—
Building long lines of breastworks for soldier's defense,
Where blood might be spilt ere we should go hence.
Now we listen to skirmishes made on their wings,
Where musket shots rattle and grim cannons ring;
'Tis the death knell of many, who by these missiles fall,
Pure victims to Liberty's loud trumpet call.
Again preparations are made to advance
To the last line of breastworks, whose moments enhance
The hour of battle, which the rebels avoid,
While moving their baggage they had not destroyed.
The axes rang sharply along the whole line,
While Parrot guns thundered and muskets did shine;
And spades in the trenches were handled with speed,
As danger did thicken men felt their whole need.
They worked like true veterans, reeking with sweat,
First with spades, then with guns, as they never worked yet
Since the day they enlisted for country and flag—
There was no time for shirking or for any to lag.
Before we could finish this desirable job,
To strengthen the pickets our Company plods,
While the rest of the Regiment handle their steel,
And finish the pits with commendable zeal.
The night was disturbed by the scattering fire
From both lines of pickets, which was not required
To make the night pleasant to our Company's men,
Who heard the balls whistle above now and then.
But morning brought with it, as usual, relief,
With coffee and crackers to soften our grief,
And what was still better for soldiers oppressed,
By a want of their slumber, a season of rest.
Now for several nights we had frequent alarms;
When we ran to the breast works and seizing our arms
Prepared for the worst which a battle could bring
To an army at night possessing their things.
By miniature battles on the right and left wings,
With the center on picket these days were put in.
Till at last one fine morning an explosion was heard,
Whose tones plainly told of the flight of these birds.
When battle no longer could crown our just hopes,
Our brigade was transferred to the Army of Pope;
When our boys hurried off to Booneville away,
Which we used up in moving for five or six days.
This camp, like a desert, is choking with thirst,
Where creeks are dead water, and it some of the worst
Of any we tasted in our marches thus far,
Through the Land of Rebellion, now blasted with war[.]
A part of our drink was obtained from mud wells
In the beds of dry creeks in these Southern dells,
Where soldiers had dug in hopes to obtain
A little good water while they might remain.
March to Camp Montgomery
Again we have orders, from high sources, to march,
Which we heed as before and pack up to start,
With our faces turned backward as if in retreat,
Our Division moves on through the terrible heat.
Oppressed by the heat and all covered with dust,
Through this smiting heat was our Regiment thrust
Toward our destination, from morning till eve,
Leaving some by the roadside you'd better believe.
The hour arrived when the sun ceased to burn,
When those by the wayside could safely return
To their places in camp, if they had survived
This terrible march, where some lost their lives.
We halted, at length, in a fire-scorched field,
Where poor tired Nature her sceptre did wield,
For all were soon wrapped in slumbers profound,
Rolled up in our blankets on the dew covered ground.
Refreshed we awaked at the close of the night,
Rejoiced in beholding sweet Heaven's pure light;
And as the bright sun-light peeped over the hills,
We completed this journey of four or five miles.
Arrived at Camp Montgomery—Every Day Life
Arrived in good season at our journey's end,
On a fine swell of woodland, where labor would blend
To make this place airy and embellish the scene,
Which we had selected in this forest glade green.
Our days were divided by duties, though slight,
They filled up the season from morning till night;
With police and guard duty and four hour's of drill,
It was the business the Seventh was called to fulfill.
No water being handy but what we could bring
From poor dirty creeks and bad tasting springs,
It was Company A who conceived a bold plan
To dig in the earth for this blessing to man.
By means of hard labor we soon did succeed
In obtaining the blessings which we so much need,
For in finding this treasure our bosoms did swell,
When we saw the pure water running into the well.
Our labors were crowned with such speedy success
That others, by these true facts, were impressed
To enter with spirit into this paying game,
When two wells repaid them well for the same.
Now all of the Seventh, by necessity led,
Contrived a nice plan for baking their bread;
And from hasty materials did the best that they could,
By building ovens of sticks and clay mud.
Thus the Summer, in garrison duty, was past,
For three months, at least, flew rather fast,
Bringing Autumn's cool evenings unto us, and lo,
We were ordered to Northeast Corinth, as you know.
Three Companies, now, were ordered to go
In different directions, above and below,
And in the selection there happened to be
Included the companies A, K and C.
The rest of the Seventh was now left behind,
To keep our place good from the evil inclined;
Now Company K was the first one to leave
For her destination, as you may perceive.
Their course was to march five miles to the East,
Down onto the railroad and the pickets increase,
And remain in position till ordered away
To join with their comrades for some bloody fray.
The time had now come for the others to start,
And A, with their consort, for Corinth departs,
With their arms and their baggage and utensils complete;
We pulled up at length in the principal street.
We stood on the platform while our officers go
To General Ord, his opinion to know
Concerning these companies under command,
Who patiently waited for the business in hand.
The clouds in black masses excluded the light,
While rain burst upon us with the darkness of night:
This drenched our good garments and adding its weight
To the other impediments which rain can create.
In different directions through puddles of slush
Our officers led us to the General's house, with a rush;
And he kindly pointed to an empty old house,
Where we should take shelter in the home of the mouse.
We proceeded to measure our length on the floor,
And sleep came to visit our eyelids once more.
Sending all off to Dreamland in whose regions we roam,
Forgetting our lodging till morning had come.
Now all of our comrades soon sprang to their feet,
And in washing their faces shook off their late sleep,
Making ready to travel along the highway
Leading out to our station for the rest of the day.
Captain Smith and his Company filed to the left
On the road out to Hamburg for the present to rest,
And establish his pickets on that part of the line
To watch out for stragglers on the road for some time.
The day was far spent and the sun getting low
When orders came for us to pack up and go
A little way forward to an old cotton field
To the line of our pickets with its duties revealed.
Here with double guard duty by day and by night,
We worked for the Nation, and strove for the right.
Now again we are moving, but the distance is short,
To our new position as I shall report.
Our company hailed this position with glee
With half of its labors on Company C.
And here we all labored both morning and night,
Together in friendship defending the right.
The voice of our Colonel now bade us return
To join our old comrades, as you may learn,
For the march to Iuka to battle with Price,
Whose tribe was assembled through this rebels advice.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from THE POETRY OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR Copyright © 2013 by Michigan State University Press. Excerpted by permission of Michigan State University Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword, by James M. Lundberg....................viiPreface....................xxi
Chapter One. The War Scene....................1
Chapter Two. The Holy War....................51
Chapter Three. Social Commentary....................85
Chapter Four. Slavery....................117
Chapter Five. Stories of the War....................179
Bibliography....................261