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Lake George, Fla. (Florida, United States) (search for this): chapter 6.56
, the young English officer who was killed in one of the early skirmishes of the war waged for the possession of Canada, some years before the American Revolution. Lord Howe achieved nothing remarkable, and yet he was deeply regretted, and all who read of him even now, are filled with a tender pity for his sad fate, so much so, that within the last few years the people of New York have given expression to their sympathy by erecting a monument to his memory on the spot where he fell, near Lake George, more than a hundred years after his death. Our hero, Captain Harleston, was destined to serve his country in a far greater war, with conspicious efficiency, and to lose his life whilst participating in the most glorious defense that has ever been made by any city on this Continent. The analogy between himself and Lord Howe lies simply in the beauty of his character. Those who knew him are more apt to think of what he was than of what he did; and like Lord Howe his personal qualities
Averasboro (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 6.56
like this can convey no adequate idea of either the severity or value of these extraordinary exertions of officers and men. The cannon having been removed Fort Sumter was no longer an artillery post, yet nevertheless, after the First Regiment had rested a few weeks, the companies were again sent down in detachments, to act as infantry, and assist in garrisoning it. This regiment did hard service, and lost many men at Batteries Mitchel, Wagner, Gregg, Fort Sumter, Battery Pringle, and at Averasboro, and Bentonsville in North Carolina, where they acted as infantry, after the evacuation of Charleston. At Bentonville------'s brigade, which preceeded the brigade of regulars, broke, and ------'s regiment came rushing back right through their ranks, but the colors were ordered to the front, and the officers called on the men to stand firm, and so great was their courage and discipline that not one of the regulars disobeyed the command and joined in the flight. All day they held their s
United States (United States) (search for this): chapter 6.56
nt among the men, for a ten-inch Columbiad is of such a size and of so great weight, that it would be almost as easy to lose a church steeple as a gun of this caliber. The famous old Brooke cannon was the only piece of ordnance left by the United States authorities at the Charleston Arsenal, when they turned it over to Mr. Porter, about two years ago, for his fine school. There it lies rusting away in the grass. The boys play tag against the wheels, and climb upon the old war-dog to con ovnt, until the powder was shipped by night to Charleston. They could have rendered it perfectly harmless in a half hour's time, by flooding the magazine, and saturating the powder in the shells with water, but powder was too valuable in the Confederate States to be thrown away, even when the lives of an entire regiment were at stake. Night after night they were kept busy removing the cannon and ammunition from the fort, although they were quite aware of the fact that at any second the powder
William Grimball (search for this): chapter 6.56
were in imminent peril from the great store of powder (131,000. pounds,) and the loaded shells, in their magazine. Had a single spark entered there, and ignited the powder, no one in the fort would have lived to tell the tale, for each brick would have been blown to atoms in a minute. Every man in the garrison knew this. On one occasion a shell struck the ventilator and exploded so near the magazine that the blast of the powder burst open the door, and filled it with smoke. Lieutenant William Grimball and several other men were in the magazine at the time. Another day a shell from the fleet fell in the casement adjoining the shell-room, setting it on fire. The explosion broke a hole in the partition wall between the rooms, and filled the shell room with so dense a smoke that it also was supposed to be on fire, and the piles of loaded shells were momentarily expected to prove the terrible fact by exploding singly or in concert. At this critical moment when the nerves of the c
G. T. Beauregard (search for this): chapter 6.56
an had, so gentle and so strong. I think his death was more regretted than that of any other man whom I came in contact with during the war. He was so much respected by his commanders, and so truly loved by his equals and subordinates. General G. T. Beauregard testifies he was a very gallant, and an excellent officer. And General Thomas Jordan (the Adjutant-General of General Beauregard's staff), he was an officer of distinction, and of high promise at the time of his death. Miss Yonge, thGeneral Beauregard's staff), he was an officer of distinction, and of high promise at the time of his death. Miss Yonge, the charming English authoress, defines a hero, as a man who does more than his duty. Captain Harleston illustrated her definition of that often mis-applied term, for I suppose she meant that a hero is a man whose spirit carries him beyond the written letter of the law, whose earnest zeal knows no limitation but that of absolute self abnegation. Who reads the word duty, according to the widest interpretation, understanding it to mean his utmost endeavor, (which no man can go beyond.) I was remin
John Middleton (search for this): chapter 6.56
mrades. Lieutenant James S. Heyward was writing a letter to his mother, at Fort Sumter; he left his seat, crossed over to the mantle-piece to get his tobacco and refill his pipe, but before he could do so, down came a shell which smashed both chair and table to pieces. He picked up his letter from among the debris, and added this postcript. A 300 pound shell has torn off the last page of my letter, so you will have to imagine what I wrote, as I have not time to re-write it. Lieutenant John Middleton, had been on fatigue duty all night. When relieved in the morning, he threw himself upon his bed, and was soon sound asleep. He had placed his watch and several other things upon a chair besides him; suddenly an immense shell came crashing in, shattering the chair, bed, and every thing, and dashing him violently across the room. As soon as he awoke to conciousness and discovered the state of affairs in his apartment he picked up his watch, put it to his ear to ascertain if the j
Yonge (search for this): chapter 6.56
eral G. T. Beauregard testifies he was a very gallant, and an excellent officer. And General Thomas Jordan (the Adjutant-General of General Beauregard's staff), he was an officer of distinction, and of high promise at the time of his death. Miss Yonge, the charming English authoress, defines a hero, as a man who does more than his duty. Captain Harleston illustrated her definition of that often mis-applied term, for I suppose she meant that a hero is a man whose spirit carries him beyond thhe law, whose earnest zeal knows no limitation but that of absolute self abnegation. Who reads the word duty, according to the widest interpretation, understanding it to mean his utmost endeavor, (which no man can go beyond.) I was reminded of Miss Yonge's idea by a conversation between two ladies (in no way related to Captain Harleston,) who were speaking of his sad fate; one of them said, at any rate he died in the performance of his duty, which is a nobler destiny than awaits most of us. Th
Hardee (search for this): chapter 6.56
ht. All day they held their slight breast-works there, although they were heavily assaulted repeatedly, by thrice their numbers. They bivouaced on the battle field that night, and the next day the brigade received official thanks from Lieutenant-General Hardee, who published a complimentary order that was read out to the whole corps, which spoke of their iron firmness and measureless gallantry. Thus did the First Regiment for the third time receive public thanks for its admirable conduct and devotion to duty. Some years after the war had ended General Hardee met one of the officers in New York, he shook him cordially by the hand, and then said to him, You were one of the South Carolina Regulars who fought at Bentonville, were you not? Yes, sir. Then you can look any man in the face as long as you live, for no troops ever fought better than you did that day. It is impossible to write of Captain Harleston without dwelling somewhat at length upon the merits of his regiment, fo
George Dargan (search for this): chapter 6.56
and fatigue of night duty, the officers who were relieved would lie down to rest in these quarters, and when they arose from their unrefreshing sleep, they could actually wring the moisture from their garments. Yet in spite of the weariness and the danger, the buoyant spirit and courage of the regiment was magnificent, endless instances of presence of mind and cool resolution might be enumerated to prove this, but I will only mention one or two that recur to my memory just now. Lieutenant George Dargan was standing on the terre-plain of Battery Gregg, supervising the firing of the guns under his command, and wore a cap with a double facing, a shell burst near him and a fragment of it cut the front facing clear off. Without moving, except to raise his hand and reverse the cap so that his eyes might be protected by the other facing from the fierce glare of the sun, he coolly nodded his head towards the Federals and remarked, I bet you could not do that again. Five men were sittin
Frank H. Harleston (search for this): chapter 6.56
s of the war waged for the possession of Canada, some years before the American Revolution. Lord Howe achieved nothing remarkable, and yet he was deeply regretted, and all who read of him even now, are filled with a tender pity for his sad fate, so much so, that within the last few years the people of New York have given expression to their sympathy by erecting a monument to his memory on the spot where he fell, near Lake George, more than a hundred years after his death. Our hero, Captain Harleston, was destined to serve his country in a far greater war, with conspicious efficiency, and to lose his life whilst participating in the most glorious defense that has ever been made by any city on this Continent. The analogy between himself and Lord Howe lies simply in the beauty of his character. Those who knew him are more apt to think of what he was than of what he did; and like Lord Howe his personal qualities have caused the many friends who loved him to regard his memory with an
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