"'General, I hear guns over to our left.'
"Gen. Lyon listened, and answered:
"'Well, General, I believe you are correct. I think I heard a gun.'
"Pike then believed that Fitzgibbon had made an attack, and would compel the enemy to withdraw their forces directly on our left. But he was mistaken. No attack was made except the one by the rebels. Very soon afterwards they had completed their line, and, knowing the value of a flank attack, again assaulted in the same manner as before. They came this time with more caution than before, but with a stronger force.
They opened fire on both sides about the same time. The battle was now renewed all along the line--cavalry, infantry and artillery. The Unes wavered occasionally on both sides. The left of our line gave way at first, but rallied again. Gen. Lyon rode up and down his line, cheering his men. He led them again and again against the seeming adamantine wall of rebels, and finally forced them back slowly, holding all the ground gained. By this time our center was penetrated and broken. Our troops could not be rallied for some time. The rebels seeing our confusion took advantage of it, and with the intrepidity of so many demons made another attack on all parts of the line and forced our whole line some distance to the rear. It looked for an hour as though all was lost. At one time our lines seemed to be melting away and becoming disorganized. They were rallied again, however, and formed a new line about a mile in the rear of our first. Both armies were exhausted. Fresh troops then to our aid would have settled the fortunes of the day in our favor But they did not come. Gen. Pike thought that whoever made the first attack would be successful, and ordered our line forward. They moved cautiously, but steadily, attacking and driving the enemy back. He kept falling back until he occupied his first line and we ours. Our left, however, was soon struck by a division of fresh troops, and was driven back some distance through the woods with great loss. My dear son, Gen. Lyon, here, while rallying his men, was shot through the heart and instantly killed."
[Illustration: Death of General Lyon 142]
"The old man wept bitterly, and many tears rolled down the cheeks of his listeners. When he could resume he said:
"If Fitzgibbon had attacked as was expected, our flank could not have been turned, and the great slaughter that occurred on this part of the line would have been avoided. Night here closed the day's slaughter with our left completely turned and our troops demoralized. They passed the night on their arms. The next morning at daylight the attack was resumed by the rebels and our army was beaten. Gens. Stepleton and Kearnan fell on that day, with many other brave officers and men. No battle lost during the war fell with more crushing effect upon the loyal people than did the defeat of the Army of the East at the battle of Pageland. The battle was lost by the failure of Farlin and Fitzgibbon to support Gen.
Pike. They did just what the President and Secretary of War feared they would do--that was, fail in supporting Pike, the new commander. Their idea was to dictate the commander or not fight. One would think that men who had fed upon the charity of the Government from youth to middle age would be inspired by a more lofty feeling and sentiment. But this is a mistake. You cannot infuse patriotism by drilling at a college or in the field. This comes from the nursery of the mother. Nor can you put brains, commonsense or courage where God has refused it. The question with these men was, 'Do you belong to a certain chosen few?' If so, that was put above every other consideration. A volunteer, no matter how much he might develop a genius for military affairs, could have no recognition at their hands.
"The fact that Julius Caesar and Napoleon Bonaparte were great generals without military training except in the field proved nothing. If men like those who first commanded our army in the East, and who formed the coterie, had lived during the Revolutionary War, Washington and the best of his generals would not have been permitted to have commanded a brigade, if these men could have controlled as they did at the outbreak of the rebellion. The same feeling has grown among our people since the war, until the brains of a man cuts but little figure in matters connected with governmental affairs. He must belong to one of two classes: either a snob or one who has made a fortune. No matter whether he made it selling rotten blankets to the Government, worthless arms for the soldiers, bad meat, diseased horses, small mules, rotten and poorly-put-together harness, or procured his money in some other way--if he has it, the conclusion is at once that he is a great man and full of wisdom. These things are unfortunate in a government like ours. But this is the tendency, and has been for many years. Dash and swell is the motto now; it is growing more in that direction every day. But I have wandered away from my subject. The battlefield of Pageland and its surroundings was a sight to behold the day after our defeat. The private soldiers felt outraged and officers were discouraged, and many good people despaired of our final success. Even the President was more despondent than he had ever been, but still had faith in God and our cause. The losses on both sides were very great. The country all around was by both sides turned into a great hospital. The army was almost disorganized; it certainly was most thoroughly demoralized. Gen. Pike was relieved, and McGregor put in command again. Fitzgibbon was sent to the rear without a command. Farlin was everywhere by every friend of his country severely censured. Fitzgibbon was denounced as a traitor to his superior officer.
"The mournful part to myself and family had only in part come upon us.
Dr. James Lyon, having cut one of his hands in making an amputation, feared bad results from the wound; for that reason he procured a leave of absence, and accompanied the remains of his brother David home. I will not attempt to describe to you the depth of grief in our family, from the oldest to the youngest. It was greater than I now wish to recall, even though so many years have passed since that melancholy scene. Suffice it to say that Gen. David Lyon fills the grave of as gallant and noble a soldier as ever drew a sword. He rests beside his wife and little daughter Sarah in the cemetery at Allentown."
"The old man, overcome by this recital, could not speak for some time, but finally continued:
"Gen. Anderson was very sad. Dr. James was very restless with his hand, which had commenced swelling and was becoming extremely painful. My wife Sarah and Jennie (David's widow) were stricken down with fever, requiring the constant attendance of Mary Anderson and Aunt Martha for many days before their recovery was assured. In the meantime Peter arrived, the wound in his foot having broken out again. When he came to his mother's bedside she said:
"'O! Peter, my son, that horrible dream haunts me still.'
"This dream from the first had a very depressing effect upon Peter, though he pretended to think nothing of it. We now commenced casting about to see if there was any way to have Henry exchanged. He being merely a private soldier, this was not so easy of accomplishment, as if he had been an officer. During the evening, while we were engaged in conversation in the parlor, Aunt Martha came in and said:
"'Uncle Daniel, dar's a young lady on de porch who wants to see you very bad, she say, on mos' obticlar bizness.'
"'Tell her to come in,' was my answer.
"In a moment a very modest and rather pretty young lady walked in. She was evidently greatly embarrassed. I arose, and extending my hand asked her to be seated. She sat down for a moment, and then hesitatingly said:
"'Your wife is unwell, I understand, Mr. Lyon?'
"'Yes,' I replied; 'very unwell. She has had a great sorrow recently.'
"'Yes, sir; so I understand. I very much desired to see her, but will not annoy her at this time. I had a matter about which I wished to speak with her. You know, women give their confidence to one another; but I hope you will allow me to give mine to you, as your wife is sick?'
"'Yes, my good girl; you can say what you wish to me.'
"'Well, Mr. Lyon'--she then hesitated.
"'I encouraged her to proceed.
"'Well, I am on my way South, and I wish your good offices in getting through the lines.'
"'How can I assist you, my child?'
"'I hear, sir, that you are a great friend of the President, and I thought perhaps you might intercede for me.'
"'May I inquire for what purpose you wish to go South? Do your people live there?'
"'No, sir; I live in Michigan. I was never farther South than this place, and this is my first visit here. My name is Seraine Whitcomb. I am going South to see what I can do to have a young man exchanged who is now a prisoner in the hands of the rebels.
"'Is he your brother?' I inquired.
"She blushed, and replied:
"'No, sir, he is not a relative; but one in whom I am much interested.'
"I saw through the whole matter at once, but did not press the young lady further. If I had only known whom she meant I would have embraced her as the greatest little heroine living. She said she only wished a letter from me to the President; that she would do the rest herself.
This letter I gave her without further questions. She was so modest and yet so brave. She took the letter, bade me good-by, and left. As she went out she remarked:
"'Do not be surprised if you should receive a letter from me at some future time.'
"After she had gone Peter remarked that perhaps she was sent down South by the Golden Circle, and I might be bestowing favors on the wrong person. I said, 'True, but I will take my chances on that girl's being honest, and, not only honest, but a regular little heroine.'
"Here the conversation on this subject came to an end, and we took up the condition of the army. Peter said the jealousies between officers in the Army of the East were strange; that there was nothing of this kind among the Western troops; that all seemed to have the same common purpose, and that was success; but, said he, it may be partly accounted for in this, that we are all alike unskilled in the arts of war, and do not know enough to get up these conspiracies and jealousies. We are all volunteers, save two or three, and all obey orders, and go into a battle to win, each one believing he is doing the best fighting. It seems that at the battle of Pageland the only object of some of the leading commanders was to find some way to lose the battle and at the same time save their own scalps.
"Gen. Anderson said:
"'Well, I do not know how I may succeed as a commander; but I will have the courage to relieve any man, and send him to the rear, of whom I may have the least suspicion, whether it be for cowardice, want of good intentions toward the Government, good faith toward his superior officer, or for any other cause that might give uneasiness about his properly performing his duty.'
"'That would seem to me to be the proper course for any commander of forces,' I replied."
"Uncle Daniel," said Dr. Adams, "I am curious to know what became of those two generals--Farlin and Fitzgibbon."
"Well, sir, the same power that is now rewarding those who struck us the heaviest blows, both North and South, is paying homage to these men.
They are both held in high esteem by many people, and you would think they were the only loyal men that were near the battlefield on that day."
"Yes," said Col. Bush; "to have lost an arm or leg on the Union side is like the brand of Cain nowadays; but to have been a rebel or to have belonged to the Golden Circle, or failed in some way by which the rebels profited or gained advantage, entitles one to a medal or some high position of honor and emolument."
CHAPTER IX.
BATTLE OF ANTLER'S RUN--SERAINE WHITCOMB LEAVES FOR THE SOUTH--PLOTTING IN CANADA--DISCOVERY OF A CONSPIRACY AMONG ARMY OFFICERS.
"Yesterday was heard, The roar of war; and sad the sight of maid, Of mother, widow, sister, daughter, wife, Stooping and weeping over senseless, cold, Defaced, and mangled lumps of breathless earth, Which had been husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, And lovers, when that morning's sun arose.
--Pollock.
"Gen. Anderson, Peter and myself concluded that we would again visit the farm. There we found poor old Joseph Dent in utter despair on account of his 'poor Captain' (as he called David) having been killed. He talked of him in the most enthusiastic manner, and would then weep, saying 'the only friend I had is gone, and I will not be satisfied until I can get even with these rebels.'
"Gen. Anderson said: 'Well, Joseph, what will you do?'