The Maryland Confederate monument at Gettysburg.
At a preliminary meeting to arrange for the dedication of the Maryland Confederate Monument at Gettysburg, held in Baltimore, Tuesday evening, November the 16th, 1886, General Bradley T. Johnson made a defence of Confederates from the charge of being ‘Rebels’ and ‘traitors’ well worthy of preservation in our records.
General Johnson's address.
We are often asked by persons quite friendly to us, why we persist in maintaining these Confederate societies, and why we every year make public demonstrations of our respect for the ‘Lost Cause,’ and our affection for our dead comrades and attachment to our living ores. I have been asked, ‘Why not let the dead Confederacy rest in peace? It is dead; it cannot be revived, and you are guilty of an anachronism when you seek to put life in the corpse.’ My answer is, the cause of the Confederate States was the cause of civil liberty, under constitutional forms, on this continent. Those who supported it in arms acted up to the best lights they had, and maintained their faith and belief at the risk of life and fortune. That cause never will be a ‘lost cause,’ for as long as freemen all over the world love liberty they will struggle for it, and, if need be, fight for it, and they will respect the people who dared, at such great cost, to stand in defence of it against overwhelming odds and irresistible force. By the conventions of Appomattox and Denham Station we agreed to ‘return to our homes and obey the laws in force there,’ but by those military treaties it was expressly agreed that we should retain our swords, and without that stipulation no surrender would have been made by either Lee or Johnston. The sword was the insignium of the soldier—the emblem of our right and the outward mark of the respect which we had won. It indicated our reserved right of self-defence, of our honor, of our property and our institutions.The parole was the certificate given by the conquerors to the conquered of honorable service in honorable war.
As soon as peace returned the first question that met us was as to what was to be our position in the future development of the country.
Were we to live as unconvicted rebels and go down to dishonored [430] graves as felons who had vainly attempted to destroy the Union, the sole sanctuary and safeguard of liberty to mankind, and were we to transmit to our posterity the tainted blood of unhung traitors and our children bearing the burden of names branded with ignominy and crime? Or were we to be considered honorable soldiers of a war illustrated by the greatest gallantry, the highest chivalry, the brightest genius that the English-speaking race have ever exhibited?
Were we to be regarded by our contemporaries—the gallant soldiers of the successful side—as their equals in patriotism and purity of motive, and by succeeding generations as worthy of places beside the armies of the Union? These were not merely sentimental questions. They were pressing and vital ones, upon the answer to which our future welfare and happiness largely depended.
As outcasts we would rapidly degenerate into the outlaws of the community, and would be thrust aside as unworthy of respect and debarred an equal opportunity of earning the support of ourselves and those dear to us. As respected citizens of the State and the Union we would live happily among our people, would receive proofs of their confidence and esteem, and leave to our children the priceless heritage of honored fame and name. To Marylanders these questions were more vital than to those who had their own State organizations to justify them. We had no defence except the law of war as defined by and practiced under the law of nations. And it was of overwhelming necessity that our position should be ascertained to be that of soldiers, and not of rebels and traitors.
The question came home to me personally in a very pressing way. I was under indictment in the Federal and State courts for treason in committing acts of war in the Sharpsburg and Gettysburg campaigns. I knew perfectly well what the law was. The only doubt was as to how far the courts of the successful side would give the unsuccessful side the benefit of it. Rebellion is insurrection against lawful government, which is unlawful in itself, in which every one who assists, aids or abets it is equally guilty, and personally responsible to the law for his crime, and which has no legal consequences, and can have none, for it is against all law. After it is suppressed there only remain the criminal trial and the punishment. War is a status between nations, countries or parties. As soon as it occurs, it changes at once the relation of every person subject to either party; each one becomes bound to obey his own country, and ceases to be personally responsible for actions committed by command of its authority, civil or military. All the people on one side become [431] legally enemies to all those on the other side, and no connection or communication is lawful between them unless by permission of their respective authorities. All business ceases, all compacts are dissolved between them, and they are as if they existed on separate planets, Therefore if the war between the States was determined to have been rebellion, every citizen of the Confederate States who had aided it would have been guilty of treason and liable to the law for his actions.
All official acts done by civil officers of the Confederate government, or of the States, judgments of courts, protests of commercial paper, probate of wills—every act necessary in civilized society to be done by officials—would have been void, and everything would have been in chaos. But if that war was held to be civil war, with all the legal consequences of public war, then there was no treason and no penalty for it—no personal responsibility for acts of lawful war. All the transactions of the governments, city, county and State, would be recognized and affirmed, and society would go on undisturbed in the status of peace, which would ensue upon the cessation of war.
I prepared and delivered the first argument, I believe, which was delivered anywhere, at the October term, 1868, before the Court of Appeals of Maryland, to establish the position that the contest had been war and not rebellion, and had produced the legal consequences that result from war, and that, therefore, we had not been rebels nor traitors, and could not, under the law, be held responsible as such. The same views were afterwards pressed upon the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States in the proceedings against ex-President Davis by Charles O'Conor, and Mr. Davis was never tried.
Nor was any man ever tried anywhere in any Federal Court for treason. The law of the United States, as declared by the executive and judicial departments for eighty years, had settled the fact that resistance by any great body of people, controlling a large territory for a considerable time against the government which they were endeavoring to throw off, was war and not rebellion, and must be treated as war, with all the legal consequences of war. As O'Conor said, ‘Washington might have failed, Kosciusko did fail,’ but neither of them could have been treated, under the civilized code of nations, as traitors. The revolutions of the South American republics and of Greece were so treated by the Federal government. Mr. Webster, in his Bunker Hill oration, in 1825, had declared that the battle of [432] Bunker Hill marked the dividing line between rebellion and civil war, between treason and war.
‘It created,’ he said, ‘at once a state of open public war. There could no longer be a question of proceeding against individuals as guilty of treason or rebellion.’ So Mr. Charles Francis Adams, the American minister to England, in June, 1861, wrote to his government that the recognition by the European powers of belligerent rights in the Confederate States relieved the government of the United States of responsibility for any misdeeds of the Confederates towards foreign persons or property. As soon as hostilities began, England and France recognized the Confederate States as entitled to rights of belligerents in lawful war. The Union government permitted flags of truce and exchange of prisoners, and for four years the status of war was self-evident, and admitted by all the world. As soon as the war began, the United States claimed and exercised the right of blockade, which, as it affects foreign nations, can only be exercised in a war. As soon as peace was restored, the civil courts in the Union were forced, by the inexorable logic of history, of law and of justice, to decide anywhere all sorts of questions, in all sorts of cases, that the war was a civil war, with all the legal consequences of public war.
The Supreme Court of Maine led off in deciding in an insurance suit between citizens of Maine, that a capture by the Sumter was a capture in war, and that Semmes's flag was a lawful flag, and not a piratical one. The Supreme Court of the United States also held in a suit against a Massachusetts Insurance Company, that the Confederate flag was a lawful one, and a Confederate capture on the high seas a capture in war.
The Federal courts everywhere have established the same proposition.
The Supreme Court, in numberless cases, has held that the war was a civil war, with all the consequences of public war. A New Hampshire man sued an Arkansas man, who pleaded the statute of limitation to a debt created before the war. The court held that the war stopped the running of the statute.
A New York man was sued on liabilities created during the war by a partnership, of which he was a member in Mobile. The court held that the war dissolved the partnership. In another case it has decided that a corporation chartered by the Confederate State of Alabama continued to exist after Alabama returned to the Union, and it exists now. Numerous attempts have been made to hold Confederate [433] soldiers civilly liable for damages for trespass committed during war, but the Federal courts and the Supreme Court have held that no such liability was incurred.
As a matter of historical fact and of legal truth, First Manassas destroyed whatever possibility there ever was of the war being treated as rebellion by the successful side, or of our ever being considered as traitors.
As soon as the struggle in arms for independence ended, this struggle of logic and reason for our recognition as honorable soldiers began, and we have established our position before the world and to the end of time.
We are faithful citizens of the Union and supporters of the Constitution, and we are so because we are recognized as equal citizens, with equal rights to respect and recognition.
We are making the South to blossom as the rose, and her increase in power, population, and wealth in the future will be simply incredible.
The census of 1900 will see Texas outvoting New York, and Alabama passing Pennsylvania in power. When people have lost everything save honor, as we had done in 1865, our first duty became to preserve that untarnished. The Union had power, wealth, art, poetry, the press, the histories, and the school-books to impress their story upon future generations. We had naught but our own invincible courage and endurance and self-respect, and we have never wavered in the assertion of our right to be respected. While, for years, the successful side were offering high rewards for those who would leave us, not five Confederate soldiers of renown have deserted. While, for twenty years, any men of reputation in the South who would join them would have received high place under the Federal government, we have not had ten renegades.
Even here in Maryland, where the Confederate soldier has not always been recognized as he should be, not ten can be found who have proved recreant to their comrades and their faith.
It seemed to some of us that the preservation of the moral, the selfrespect of our people, was of vital necessity for recovery. If they were allowed to sink into the condition of conquered vassals, they would soon, in reality, degenerate into serfs. It was necessary that some organized efforts be made to preserve them from the moral consequences of conquest.
Accordingly, in the spring of 1870, I prepared the plan for the Association of the Army of Northern Virginia, which plan was, that [434] a division should be organized in every State, and General Lee was asked to become its first president. He did not think the time auspicious for such an organization, and it was dropped.
At the great memorial meeting in Richmond, in October, 1870, presided over by ex-President Davis, when many great soldiers of the Confederacy were present, the Association was formed. This society was then organized as the Maryland Division of the Army of Northern Virginia.
Other similar societies arose all over the South, and I believe they have performed a large and noble part in keeping up the spirit of our people. It was the spirit kept alive by these societies and the organization and membership of the societies themselves which rescued Louisiana and South Carolina and Georgia, and which has just restored Virginia to the control of her own people.
I come now to answer more definitely the inquiry with which I started—Why do we continue these public exhibitions and demonstrations?
I answer, in order to show that we have power and the will to protect ourselves and our comrades.
The annual orations and banquets at which we meet are not meant solely to make a display or to gratify a sentiment. They have been intended to keep, and they have succeeded in keeping, alive that heartfelt sympathy which Maryland felt so deeply for us, and they resulted in the bazar and $31,000 as an endowment to take care of our people.
This fund is not sufficient. We have now so many on our pension list that our fund is absorbed before adequately supplying their necessities.
As time goes on, we have more needy and broken-down comrades. Some of them are already in the poor-house. Many are on the way there. Since 1865 we have been treated with chivalric courtesy and kindness by Union soldiers, and I have never heard of one of them acting toward our comrades otherwise than most generously. We have consistently voted pensions for them, for honorable soldiers deserve pensions. We cannot reasonably expect pensions for ourselves from the Federal Government, but it must commend itself to the sense of justice of honorable men that, while we contribute hundreds of millions to Union pensioners, our own loved comrades shall not be allowed to die the death of paupers and be buried in paupers' graves.
Our men here in Maryland are honest; they are sober, industrious [435] and trustworthy. Of the fifteen hundred men of the Maryland Line at Hanover Junction I cannot count ten that are worthless or broken down by dissipation or laziness. They are competent to fill many humble places in city, county, State and Federal governments. There seems to be a disposition to ignore them, to treat them as poor relatives, to keep them out of sight as a disgrace to the family. I do not ask that they be given places beyond their abilities, but I do insist that men who have proved their fidelity by dedicating their lives to defence of their faith shall be taken care of, and not allowed to die in the poor-house.
I will not stand it, and as long as I have strength I will appeal to the noble and generous of Maryland, and largely to the Union soldiers — for four years our enemies, for twenty years our friends—against this injustice, this ignoble, cowardly feeling that impels people to disregard us because we are poor.
We can show that we have power; and power always compels respect. For their exhibition of power I thank Company C. They compelled the restoration of Knox to his place.
I hope, therefore, that our demonstration for Friday to Gettysburg will be impressive from its size and earnestness. I have no sympathy with any attempt to revive the issues or rekindle the passions of the civil war. He has a bad heart and is a bad citizen in Maryland who would do so. I accord to the Union men of Maryland the highest patriotism and the noblest courage in defense of their opinions. I claim for my own people equality in every respect with them, and insist upon equal recognition and respect.
I reprobate all recrimination and recalling of the bitter words and harsh actions of the war. War is a rough business and deals in rough ways. All its bitter memories ought to be buried, and only those noble deeds remembered which are a credit to manhood.
I claim a share in the reputation won by Kenly, Phelps, Horn, and every Maryland soldier on every stricken field, and I will everywhere and at all times guard their honor as my own.
Let every laurel won by either side be the common right of all Marylanders, and future generations will recall with pride the achievements of the Maryland brigade of the Army of the Potomac in the Wilderness and before Petersburg, and the combat of the First regiment with the Bucktails, and its manual of arms before the batteries of Gaines Mills, and the desperate charge of the Second regiment, ‘the gallant battalion,’ at Cold Harbor and at Gettysburg; the fight at Cedar Mountain, where the First artillery charged and [436] dove back a line of battle, the only case on record of such a feat of arms; the reckless gallantry by which the Maryland line saved Richmond from Kilpatrick and Dahlgren's sack; and let them take equal pride and do equal honor to the memory of their ancestors who fought under McClellan and Grant, Hancock and Buford, or who followed Jackson and Ashby, and charged under Lee and Stuart. Let this be the common heritage of glory of our posterity to the remotest time, as long as honor is revered, chivalry is cherished, courage is respected among the descendants of the founders of free thought in all the world. The heart of the poet already feels the inspiration of noble deeds, and one of the tenderest singers of our time, himself a Union soldier of repute, has even now embalmed the memory of Stonewall Jackson in immortal verse:
And oft when white-haired grandsires tell
Of bloody struggles past and gone;
The children at their knees will hear
How Jackson led his columns on.
The monument dedicated.
The monument was dedicated on Friday, November the 19th, and we clip from the Baltimore Sun of the next day the following account:Twenty-three years after the dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg by President Lincoln, the first monument, marking the position of a Confederate command on the battlefield of Gettysburg, was dedicated yesterday, a beautiful day for any ceremony. It was erected by the surviving members of the Second Maryland regiment and their friends, and the dedicatory ceremonies were witnessed by two thousand people, including the members of the Second regiment, the Maryland Line, the Society of the Army and Navy of the Confederate States, the Murray Association, the Ladies' Confederate Memorial Association, Company C, First Maryland cavalry, the Fifth Maryland regiment acting as escort, and survivors of the First Maryland infantry, First Maryland artillery, Chesapeake artillery, and a large number of ex-Confederate soldiers from other States, gentlemen and ladies of Baltimore, Frederick and Gettysburg. The Western Maryland railroad ran a special excursion train at 8.30 A. M. to Gettysburg in two sections, the first section being in charge of Conductor William Johnson, and the second [437] in charge of Captain W. T. Cooksley, who had been in the Confederate service. The first section, consisting of ten cars, was occupied by the Fifth regiment, Colonel Stewart Brown commanding, with band and drum corps, two hundred and eighty men, and in the fourteen cars of the second section were the various associations and their friends. At Emory Grove the last section was divided, and was run to Gettysburg and back as two trains. The trip to the battlefield and return was made with comfort and pleasure for all. On the train Captain Daniel A. Fenton collected over $40 for the injured firemen. Arrived at Gettysburg, the veterans found the Fifth regiment in line on Carlisle street. When they had formed their columns they passed the regiment, which stood at present arms, and then saluted and cheered the command as it passed them to take the right of line.
The march to the battlefield was then taken up in the following order: The Fifth regiment, couriers Messrs. Emmett Brown, J. B. Brown, sons of Captain J. B. Brown of the Third North Carolina infantry, M. H. Herbert, son of General Herbert, and J. Duncan McKim, son of Rev. Dr. Randolph H. McKim; General George H. Steuart and staff-officers; Lieutenant Randolph H. McKim, chief of staff; Lieutenant McHenry Howard, Colonel W. S. Symington, Colonel H. Kyd Douglass, Captain Frederick M. Colston, Captain Frank Markoe, Captain John Donnell Smith, Private George C. Jenkins, Lieutenant Fielder C. Slingluff, Private Gresham Hough, Captain J. S. Maury, Midshipman John T. Mason, Captain C. M. Morris, Midshipman J. Thomas Scharf, Private Spencer C. Jones, Corporal Robert M. Blundon, Sergeant William H. Pope, Private George T. Hollyday, Captain John B. Brown; the Second Maryland regiment; First Maryland Cavalry; a carriage containing Captain George Thomas, the orator of the day; Mr. Ridgely Howard and friends; the Maryland Line, Society of the Army and Navy, and other organizations. Nearly one thousand persons were in line. The veterans marched to the music of Latchford's Drum Corps, composed of sons of Federal veterans, the drum-major, Aquilla Jackson, having been a Federal soldier.
The flags borne in the Maryland Line were carried by Messrs. John W. Chapman and T. W. Carey—the two battle-flags of the Second regiment, one presented by the ladies of Baltimore and the other by the ladies of Frederick. The Frederick flag, borne at the head of the line, is of blue silk, with the State arms on one side, and on the other the inscription, ‘to the Frederick Volunteers [438] by the Friends of Southern Rights.’ This company was raised by Captain Bradley T. Johnson, and was the first body of troops that joined the Confederate army in Virginia. The Baltimore flag, known as the Bucktail flag, also of blue silk, with the State seal and the inscription, ‘First Regiment, Maryland Line,’ upon it, was brought from Baltimore by Miss Hetty Cary, just before the battle of Manassas, and the two colors on one staff were carried through the battle. The flags were also in the battles of Front Royal, Winchester, Bolivar Heights, Harrisonburg, Cross Keys, Port Republic, Cold Harbor, Chickahominy, Malvern Hill, and the Seven Days around Richmond. At the battle of Harrisonburg, where Ashby was killed, five men were shot under the colors.
The route of the procession was out Carlisle street to Baltimore street, across Cemetery Hill, then by a road to the left to Culp's Hill, where stands the monument, one of the most handsome ones on the field. It was described in The Sun of yesterday. The Fifth regiment passed at carry arms the National cemetery, where the flag was at half-mast in respect to the memory of Ex President Arthur.
As the procession marched over the battlefield one could obtain some little idea of the desperate fighting which occurred there when he viewed the stones and monuments in close proximity marking the positions of the opposing bodies, and the rugged nature of the country, broken by woods and huge ribs of rock projecting several feet above ground. The monument has one of these ribs for a base. At the monument, upon which was placed a floral anchor by a lady whose son was a member of the Second Maryland, the scene was striking. The Fifth regiment stood at parade rest; the veterans gathered about the monument or strolled about the field, pointing out the spots where they were wounded, where the gallant Murray and other members of their command were killed, or narrating the incidents of the three days fight. Luncheon parties were scattered about among the trees, giving an animated appearance to the bare November landscape. The battle of Gettysburg was one of the two fights in which Maryland troops were pitted against each other. Among those present yesterday were Messrs. Joseph H. White and W. T. Ehlen, of Talbot county, who were members of Pennsylvania regiments opposed to the Confederate forces in that battle.
General Steuart and staff were greeted by Messrs. John M. Krauth, John S. Schick, Dr. Charles Horner, W. D. Holtzworth, and Colonel C. H. Buehler, of the Gettysburg Memorial Association, and with General Steuart presiding the ceremonies were begun by Rev. [439] Dr. Randolph H. McKim, late of Holy Trinity Church, New York, and now of Trinity Church, New Orleans, and the sole surviving member of the personal staff of General Steuart at the battle of Gettysburg. He prayed that the liberty for which the South had fought and the Union for which the North had contended might never be broken asunder. Captain George Thomas then delivered the dedicatory address, which occupied three-quarters of an hour, and was heard attentively. At its conclusion, Mr. John M. Krauth accepted the monument, and said that the Association would deem it a privilege and a duty to guard the monument to the gallantry and courage of the men of whom it was a memorial. The audience was then dismissed with the benediction. During the services the Fifth regiment band, under Adam Itzel, played two dirges, and it was noticeable that during the whole day no National or Southern airs were played. Everybody returned to Gettysburg at the conclusion of the exercises, took dinner, and, until train time, enjoyed the pranks of some of the members of the Fifth regiment, who, headed by Latchford's Drum Corps, marched about the town in high glee, and heard a brief speech made by General Steuart from the platform of one of the cars.
General Bradley T. Johnson was detained in Baltimore by court business, but met the excursionists on their return at Emory Grove. Upon the return of the excursion to the city at 8:20 P. M., the Fifth regiment escorted the organizations to their hall, on Mulberry and Cathedral streets.
Address of Captain Thomas.
Captain George Thomas, of St. Mary's county, acting-adjutant of the Second Maryland regiment in the battle of Gettysburg, who was badly wounded in the charge on the works, July 2, delivered the address. Captain Thomas said:This is indeed a beautiful country, singularly favored by nature, wonderfully improved by the hand of man. Its natural beauties and attractions, its evidences of thrift and well-being, are well calculated to arrest the attention of even the least observant. Peace and happiness, quietude and contentment, would seem to have found here their most congenial home. But yet more beautiful and yet more attractive are the occasion, the prompting and the circumstances that mark our assemblage of to-day. To one taking in at a glance this splendid panorama of hill and plain, of mountain side and vale, of fertile field and busy mart of trade, it would seem scarce credible that this spot, so favored by nature and [440] improved by man, could have been in the recent past the scene of armed contest between men of the same blood and lineage, having the same pride and the same traditions, like hopes and aspirations. To one familiar with the bitterness and heartburning that the history of those times recalls, it would seem even less credible that the men of the South could be here to perpetuate by monumental record the memory of their own achievements. Is it then difficult to realize that the choicest handiwork of nature and of man may, in the track of human passion, be trampled in the dust? “ A field of the dead rushes red upon the sight” in quick response. Is it difficult for us, in our conception of the workings of human nature, to realize the possibilities exemplified by the courteous recognition of our privileges on this field, thus made a common heritage? Let us all with bowed heads have thankful hearts that time, the great healer and assuager, has so far softened the memory, so far healed the bitterness of the past, that the men of Maryland, who once upheld the banner of the Southern Cross, may here erect, under the very shadow of tributes to the Union dead, this memorial evidence of soldierly work demanded, and soldierly work well done, by the men of their command on the fateful days of Gettysburg
Without all thought of bitterness, without all fear of misconception, lift we then the curtain of the past, knowing that behind its folds there is to us no shame to those who were our enemies, no cause for further estrangement or distrust.
We stand, my friends, where, for the three long July days of 1863, the armies of Lee and Meade—with almost more than human effort and endurance—strove for victory. This alone would render it a point of no ordinary interest even to the casual passer-by. To every American there is something more, for, as by intuitive perception, it is felt that the contest here had in it those features that give it rank in the history of nations by the side of the mighty conflicts that in their results have marked out the destiny of the world. Upon the issue of that contest hung, so far as human intelligence can tell of possible results, the decision of questions that, dating back for their inception to the very foundation of our government, had, as matters of prime political faith, handed down from father to son, been so cherished by generation after generation of the two great sections of the North and South that their lines of political thought had at length so diverged that there was no possible outcome save by resort to that dread arbiter from whose decision there can be no appeal. With full realization of the responsibilities involved in the act, the [441] gauntlet was thrown into the arena—with equal resolution and resolve it was lifted from the dust. There was no paltering upon either side with the magnitude of the interests at stake, and the preparations were commensurate with the powers that were to be opposed.
Two years of the stubborn trial of strength passed by, and the end seemed as far off as at the beginning. Manassas and Seven Pines, Donelson and Pittsburg, the trial of the Seven Days, and the contest at Antietam, Corinth and Perryville, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville! On these, and on an hundred other battlefields, the insatiate demands of the Moloch of civil war had been met, and still there was no rift to be seen in the cloud that hung as a pall over the homes of the millions of our land. From the sighing forests of Maine to where the tropic tides throb upon our Southern shores, here in the land of Penn, there by the firesides of the home of Washington, where Hudson trod, and where De Soto caught his Eldorado, there in that mighty region whose life-blood pulses in the restless flow of the father of waters, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in hamlet, town and village, and in quiet country home, there was the sound of wailing and the cry of woe. Yet none the less from North to South, from East to West, the fire of battle still fiercely glowed in every heart.
But even then the mighty fiat had gone forth, and the day was close at hand when the supreme effort was to be made that was to determine upon which side the meed of the victor should rest. And it was here—here that the men that followed Lee met with that crushing repulse that gave to the ensuing contests those features that, culminating on the plains of Appomattox with the fading from our view of the knightly crest of Lee, caused to be furled for aye that banner so long upheld in honor and in pride.
At no time since the first sound of war had rung throughout the land had the heart of the South beat with more hopeful aspiration than when, in the early summer of 1863, the line of march was taken up and the movement northward was begun. With full ranks and as high resolve the opposing force met one by one the moves of Lee. With march and countermarch, with thrust and feint, and hurrying to and fro of armed battalions, and brilliant strategy, the game of war was played, till here, where no sound of war's alarms had ever come, with a shock that was felt to the utmost bounds of our continental domain, the battle of destiny was joined.
The character of the campaign, impressed upon it from its incipiency, [442] had marked out for Lee the necessity for inception in attack, and his was not a nature to hesitate when the time for action had come, nor were his the men to cause a feeling of doubt in the heart of their commander. After the first day's engagement, favorable to the Confederate arms, calmly and with a soldier's eye he viewed the difficulties to be overcome, estimating at their full value the advantages to be gained by possible success, weighing well the resources at his command, and relying upon his trusty soldiery to do all that men might do, he determined upon a continuance of the contest. And so for two more days of bloodshed, from here at Culp's Hill, there upon the cemetery slopes, and further on, where the grand charge of Pickett and his Virginians was met by the storm of shot and shell that swept them, even at the moment of victory, from existence, and further still, to where in the far distance Round Top frowns at the extreme left of the Federal line, with all the appliances of modern warfare brought into play, the fierce attack and desperate resistance in very revelry of death, went on. Gallantly, most gallantly, had the men of his command responded to Lee's appeal, but the work demanded was beyond human performance. And when, on the morning of the fourth, the day dawn came to look upon the dead that along these slopes in thousands lay cold and stark together, upon the wounded and the dying crowded close in ranks unnumbered in the hospitals at the rear, upon the thinned and wasted remnant of the host that for three long days had striven in the very jaws of death for victory, upon every feature of the scene, ready as that remnant was for renewal of the contest, there was impressed the evidence, plain now, though unacknowledged then, that the beginning of the end had come. What matters it that Lee, as, he fell back sorely wounded, presented a front so bold, and an array so compact that even the stout hearts of Meade and his lieutenants hesitated to strike at the foe in retreat! What matter the days of the Wilderness, the gallant charge of Lookout Heights, or the dreary hours in the trenches at Petersburg! It was here that the chief act of the great drama was played—all that went before the prelude; all else the sequel.
The military mind and the popular heart have united in selecting this as the one battlefield whose distinctive features are to be preserved by enduring monuments that will tell to future ages and to coming generations the story that was writ in their father's blood. Memorial stones, recording brilliant deeds and bold achievement, with tributes to the dead upon the field of honor, are to be seen on [443] every side. Here Reynolds fell, there Vincent bravely died, here Kane upheld his Pennsylvania's pride, there Hancock in his splendor fought with nerve of steel; here Farnsworth, there Weed and Hazlett fell; here Slocum held his vantage ground, there Gibbon met the fierce assault of Trimble and of Armistead. Splendid memories, well deserving a nation's pride. But in all this the story is but half told, and now the managing control has, with liberal and broad appreciation of its duties and obligations thrown wide the door to the survivors of the Confederate commands to complete the record, worthy in its entirety to be engraved “with an iron pen, in lead, upon the rock forever.”
The first to avail themselves of the privilege thus accorded is the regiment to which I had the honor of belonging, known then as the First and afterwards as the Second Maryland infantry, and we, the survivors, are here to mark the point gained within the opposing lines, at the close of the second day's engagement, and further to indicate the movement made on the following morning, of the nature of a forlorn hope, when the handful left were well-nigh destroyed.
The history and character of that command are in some points peculiar, and it is not altogether inappropriate that to it should have been reserved the honor and the privilege of being the first Confederate organization to mark its place and indicate its deeds upon this field. Strictly a volunteer organization at the outstart, it retained that feature, soon in great degree peculiar to itself, till the close of its existence. Again, the men who, with the courage of their convictions, left their homes in Maryland to cast their fortunes with the South were no mere agitators or disorganizers. The historic names of the Goldsboroughs and the Johnsons, the Halls and Steuarts, the Tilghmans and the Howards, the Pacas, the Carrolls, and the Barneys, the Stones and Lloyds who filled our ranks give token of no churlish or ignoble blood, the descendants of the men who formed their State and who made the history of their colony, whether by sword or pen, to shine with peculiar lustre, even in the brilliant period of the revolutionary epoch, these men but put in practice the lessons they had learned from childhood when they staked their honor and their all and offered up their lives upon the altar of devotion in the effort to maintain the principles of their political faith.
The representatives in the Confederate service of this phase of Maryland sentiment were scattered far and wide, attached to various [444] and widely-separated commands. The attempts to unite them in one command for many reasons failed, and it thus happened that the Second infantry, in some sense to be considered the successor of the old First that fought at Manassas, was the only Maryland organization of that arm in the service, and its members consequently felt as a body and as individuals a peculiar pride that upon them, small though their numbers were, fell in large degree the duty and the obligation of upholding the honor of their native State. This monument will tell whether or not that honor was safely lodged and cared for.
The part played by the regiment in this connection is not long to tell. The morning of the 29th of June found it in camp near Carlisle, under field officers Lieutenant Colonel Herbert and Major Goldsborough. It was attached to the brigade of General George H. Steuart, in Johnson's division, Ewell's corps. When the command moved from camp on that morning, it was with ill-concealed dissatisfaction that the men found the movement to be, as they supposed, one of retreat. It was not until the morning of the 1st of July that the movement was so far developed that its aggressive character became plain. When the sounds of the engagement then progressing at Gettysburg first struck upon their ears as they reached the crest of the ridge that shuts in the Cumberland valley upon this side, and the word was passed along the line, ‘Close up, men; close up; Hill's corps is in,’ the wild shouts and hearty cheers, and quickened pace, showed how ready they were for the fray.
Passing over the scene of the first day's engagement, they bivouacked for the night in the open ground to the north and east of the town, sharing in the general belief that before the dawn of another day they would be called upon to charge the heights frowning in their front. It was with something of a feeling of dismay, certainly with one of disappointment, that the tired men were roused from their slumbers on the following morning to find the sun high in the heavens and no movement made. From their somewhat exposed situation they were moved to the protection of the wooded ground, still further to the east, and there, in anxious anticipation, they awaited the signal for advance, which they knew could not be long delayed. At last, about four in the afternoon, the signal-gun was fired. In an instant the roar and din of over two hundred field-pieces filled the air, telling but too plainly what work would be required of them before many moments had passed. [445]
The fire slackens, and their veteran experience tells them that the infantry is now to be called into action. The command is given, and steadily the line moves on, closer and closer still, to the foot of the heights, where are the serried lines of infantry and the numberless batteries posted too far above our own to be engaged with prospect of advantage. The balls begin to tell before Rock creek is gained. Crossing that the difficult ascent begins; the fire thickens and the shrieking shells fill all the air with horrid sound, but still the line moves on over the huge projecting rocks, men falling at every step, till at last, by nine at night, the position is reached that is to be marked by the stone we rear to-day. Herbert is down, and the line is fearfully thinned; but it is no time to count the losses—only time to think of the enemy in front and upon the flank. For the tired men there is to be little rest or sleep, for, wedged in as they are in dangerous proximity to the very vitals of the Federal line, the position must be held, no matter at what hazard, and scarce a man can be spared from the active watch. They know, too, that the work before them when the morning dawns is to be of more trial still, and so they pass the night, not knowing when the fierce rush may be made in the attempt to hurl them from their place, knowing nothing of support to the right or to the left, trusting that all is well and ready when the command is given for further sacrifice.
When the daylight comes they find themselves almost alone. They stand upon the extreme left of the line, with only the fraction that remains of the Tenth Virginia further on. The position seems scarcely tenable when, after having lain for hours under a withering fire of infantry and artillery, the order comes for a charge upon the works to the right and front. The men are no novices in the art of war, and they know that the move is desperate. But the order is imperative, and it is not their part to question—only to obey. Our gallant brigadier, with a full heart, passes along the line, changes the direction, sees that all is ready, then, with bright blade waving high, with clear command, cries, “Forward!” and leads the way.
It was but a little way to go. As the line, well preserved, passed into the opening just beyond, a burst of flame and shot and shell seemed to sweep the devoted band from earth. To advance was impossible—the odds ahead were too fearfully apparent; to remain was simple madness. There was no alternative, and so the order to retire was given, and when the little handful was assembled, under the command of the gallant Torsch, further down the slope, the survivors [446] looked around with wonder that even they were left alive. Of the four hundred who started to climb the slope more than two hundred fell; some, in the confusion of the night's engagement, had wandered into the enemy's lines; all of the staff and Murray, the first captain, gone; Murray dead nearly at the foot of the entrenchments. Such is the simple story that this tablet tells.
Comrades, we have together shared trials and dangers that knit our hearts as one, by ties the strongest that man can know, and of all the memories that cluster about our hearts there are none that appeal more strongly to our tenderest affections and to our pride than those that are immediately recalled by our ceremonies of to-day, and I cannot but feel and give expression to the feeling that I have been honored far above my deserving in having been selected as the organ of your feelings and affections on an occasion such as this. Conscious of the many obligations under which your unvarying kindness and good — will laid me when associated together in the honorable career of arms, I rely upon your kindness and forbearance if I have not come up to the full measure of your expectations. In few and simple words I have recalled the story we would not willingly let die. A tongue more eloquent and a heart less full might have done it ampler justice.
Comrades, we go to our homes when our ceremonies are over conscious of having performed a most sacred duty. In the time to come some one of us may stand under the shadow of this monument to tell of the labor and work of dear companions gone, to those who know of our days of sacrifice and devotion only as matters of old tradition, and the reply may rise to the lips, “And yet you failed,” and you shall say. “ Not so; not so. Failure is in duty left undone. Obeying the call of sacred obligation, we did our part as best we might, trusting for our justification to the God that ruled our hearts and had our cause in hand. To Him and to His will we bowed.”
And now, sir, it is my duty and my great pleasure to turn over to the charge of the Association which you represent this memorial of the deeds of the sons of Maryland whose cause was lost in the clash of arms. You will guard it well, not as a tribute to the cause that's dead, but as an added page to the great record you have in charge—a record which belongs to no section and to no time, the joint heritage of the North and of the South, and of right to be transmitted in all its fullness to the ages yet to come.
