The Flag Replaced on Sumter Part 3

A great destruction of capital has been the result, but 'victory at last' has rewarded her efforts, and she is now followed by a train of four bipeds, one black, one white, and two octoroons. I have neglected to tell you that the mother hen is black, and struts with pompous pride above her white and octoroon subjects. 'Let us have peace.'"

My record would be incomplete without a brief description of the freedmen's meetings on Sat.u.r.day. We found Citadel square almost impa.s.sable with the dense crowds of negroes, while hundreds of children were marching through the streets singing "John Brown." The princ.i.p.al gathering was in Zion's Church, where more than three thousand colored people were crowded together. One of the speakers from the north, William Lloyd Garrison, the veteran abolitionist, was surrounded by the freedmen as he entered the church, and borne on their shoulders amid great enthusiasm to the platform. Then the surging mult.i.tude sang, with thrilling power and effect:

"Roll, Jordan, roll, the year of Jubilee;"

and another song, beginning:

"Blow, blow your trumpet, Gabriel!"

How they all shouted at the first mention of the name of Lincoln!

"Spread it abroad," said Hon. Henry Wilson, "all over South Carolina, that the black men of South Carolina know no master now, and that they are slaves no more forever! [Great cheering.] Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States [tremendous cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs], with twenty-five millions of freemen by his side, and seven hundred thousand bayonets behind him, has decreed it, and it will stand while the world stands, that the black men of South Carolina can never more be slaves! [Loud cheers.] They have robbed your cradles; they have sold your children; they have separated husband and wife, father and mother and child. [Cries of 'Yes! yes!

yes!'] They shall separate you no more! ['Hallelujah! bress de Lord!']

The long, dreary night of slavery has pa.s.sed away forever. ['Amen!

amen! amen!'] Remember that you are now to be obedient, faithful, true and loyal to your country forevermore!" [Cheers and cries of 'Yes!

yes! yes!']

[Ill.u.s.tration: [_Copyrighted by J.A. & R.A. Reid._]

"OLE Ma.s.sA RUN--HA! HA!

DE DARKEYS STAY--HO! HO!"]

Twenty years have pa.s.sed since the emanc.i.p.ation of this race, and while a great work has been accomplished for their education, aided by the princely gifts of such philanthropists as George Peabody and John F. Slater, of New England, it is also true that much remains to be done. There still appears to exist among the ruling cla.s.s in the south a tendency to put barriers in the way of the poor and ignorant ma.s.ses, and hinder them in the exercise of their personal and political rights. "This is a white man's government," exclaims the solid south to-day, as in 1860. And again let the loyal answer go forth, as from the lips of the lamented Lincoln, at Gettysburg, twenty years ago, "This is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people, without distinction of race or color." The most serious danger which threatens our country to-day, is the ignorance of the ma.s.ses, both white and black, north as well as south. This cla.s.s in many States holds the balance of power, and has become a most dangerous force in the hands of educated but unprincipled leaders. The beneficent influences of Christianity and universal education are necessary to lift the ma.s.ses from their servile position, and enable them to think and vote for themselves. Nor should they be allowed to vote until they can read and write. Education and suffrage should go hand in hand.

CONCLUSION.

On the morning of Sunday, the sixteenth of April, 1865, the good steamer "Ocea.n.u.s," gay with crowds of pa.s.sengers, and proudly waving flags and signals, steamed slowly down Charleston harbor homeward bound. As she pa.s.sed the fleet, parting salutations were exchanged with the monitors, men-of-war, and the smaller boats pa.s.sing to and fro. We turned to take a last survey of the city in the distance, the forts, and sh.o.r.es thickly studded with now peaceful batteries. As we pa.s.sed abreast of Fort Sumter, where, as at Lexington a hundred years ago, "was fired the shot heard 'round the world," every head was uncovered, while we reverently sang, the band accompanying:

"Praise G.o.d, from whom all blessings flow,"

followed by the sweet strains of:

"My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty."

Immediately the colors on the fort were dipped, and the sentinels on the walls waved their adieus with caps and bayonets. At length we crossed the bar and took leave of the pilot.

As the sh.o.r.es of South Carolina faded in the distance, and the walls of the storied fort sank below the gray horizon, we bade farewell to scenes which, however changed by the ceaseless march of time, must always possess a charm indescribable. Religious services were held in the cabin at eleven o'clock, and again during the evening. The sound of merriment was hushed, and all seemed to realize that it was the Sabbath. Indeed, it was observed by one of the speakers, that he had not heard a word of profanity or seen any one under the influence of intoxicating beverages during the voyage.

Monday followed without important incident, save that at five o'clock in the afternoon we safely rounded Cape Hatteras with a gentle reminder of the old couplet:

"If the Bermudas let you pa.s.s, You must beware of Hatteras!"

Tuesday morning, when about thirty miles south of Fortress Monroe, and while most of the pa.s.sengers were at breakfast, a steamer was observed in the distance with her flag at half-mast. Various were the conjectures for whom it could be. We had been without news from the north for more than a week; what could have happened?

Presently a pilot-boat, with her colors also at half-mast, appeared within hailing distance.

"What's the news?" was eagerly shouted from the "Ocea.n.u.s."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN.]

"The President is dead," came faintly back, with startling effect, over the water. Immediately the breakfast tables were deserted, and the pa.s.sengers gathered in astonished groups on deck, exclaiming, "It cannot be!" "We do not believe it!" But a second pilot-boat could now be seen with her flag, half-hoisted, drooping from the halyards. Again the earnest inquiry, "What's the news?"

"President Lincoln is dead."

"How did he die?"

"He was a.s.sa.s.sinated in Washington."

Then stout hearts trembled with dismay, and men unused to tears turned pale and wept. As we pa.s.sed vessel after vessel, we obtained further particulars of the cruel tragedy, and the feeling of gloom and indignation which prevailed was deep and indescribable. Nothing else was thought or talked of, till we arrived at the fortress. On landing, I purchased a Richmond paper, containing a full account of the a.s.sa.s.sination, the murderous attack upon Secretary Seward and his sons, with the plot to remove General Grant and the entire Cabinet. We found the entrance to the fortress draped in mourning, and the saddest reminders of all were the portraits of the departed President, deeply hung with c.r.a.pe, in the various offices. We made but a brief stay at the splendid fortress, with its powerful armament, where, a few weeks later, Jefferson Davis was brought and confined as a prisoner of war.

We could plainly discern "the Rip Raps" and Sewall's Point, and the locality was pointed out "in the Roads," where the little Monitor defeated the Merrimac, in 1862, and saved the Union fleet. The story of this famous battle, and the revolution it produced in naval warfare, has been graphically recited by Comrade F.B. b.u.t.ts.

But the sad intelligence from the Capital had crushed the desire for sight-seeing, and all seemed anxious to get home with the least possible delay. After taking a supply of coal and water, and landing four or five blockade-runners who had secreted themselves in our coal-bunkers at Charleston, we were again "homeward bound."

Wednesday morning found us well on our voyage to New York, with continued pleasant weather. At half-past ten, the Sumter Club, which had been organized, held a meeting, and the rebel flag of Fort Moultrie was formally presented to the Club. It was voted to procure a suitable gold badge, with Fort Sumter engraved upon it, for each member. It was further voted that every pa.s.senger who sailed from New York for Charleston on the "Ocea.n.u.s" should be ent.i.tled to membership.

Appropriate services were held on board at eleven o'clock, the hour at which the funeral obsequies of the President were being solemnized in Washington.

At three o'clock we were opposite Coney Island, and entering the Narrows. After a short detention at quarantine, we rapidly pa.s.sed the light-houses and forts and the fleet of shipping, moving and at anchor about the great metropolis, and drew into the dock at the foot of Robinson street as the city bells struck five. Hasty farewells were exchanged with friends on board, mingled with greetings from friends on sh.o.r.e. Making my way with difficulty through the crowds of people and among teams, drays and carriages, I at length emerged into the streets of New York.

But what a change! The city was in mourning! Ten days before, every highway and avenue had been resplendent with flags and streamers; and a whole city had celebrated with joy and thanksgiving the return of peace and the triumph of loyalty over armed rebellion. We had sailed to the metropolis of the south, the Cradle of the Rebellion, and found it a city in ruins. There, where the national ensign had been first dishonored, we had seen it uplifted and restored with imposing ceremonies, amid the shouts of a race redeemed and set free. To-day we had returned to find New York as mournful as Charleston. A national calamity had filled the land with mourning. From every flag-staff the "stars and stripes," shrouded in black, drooped at half-mast. From the houses of rich and poor alike, hung the emblems of the universal sorrow. It is estimated that not less than five hundred thousand people, the representatives of all cla.s.ses, crowded the entrances to the City Hall to take a last look at the familiar features of the beloved President, who had so endeared himself to all parties by his patience, wisdom and fidelity during his long and difficult term of service. Just before the fall of Richmond he uttered those ever-memorable words, his fitting epitaph: "With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as G.o.d gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the work we are in, and do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." His work was finished. The nation was reunited, and at peace with all the world. As we enjoy to-day the blessings of peace and orderly progress let us never forget the name of Lincoln. Let us ever remember at what a fearful sacrifice of precious blood and treasure, Liberty and Union were maintained, and "the flag replaced on Sumter."

[Music: VICTORY AT LAST.

SONG AND CHORUS.

_Words by_ MRS. M.A. KIDDER. _Music by_ WM. B. BRADBURY.

1. For many years we've waited To hail the day of peace, When our land should be united, And war and strife should cease; And now that day approaches, The drums are beating fast, And all the boys are coming home, There's victory at last.

FULL CHORUS.

There's victory at last, boys, victory at last!

O'er land and sea Our flag is free; We'll nail it to the mast; Yes, we'll nail it to the mast, boys, Nail it to the mast; For there's victory, victory, victory at last!

2. The heroes who have gained it, And lived to see the day, We will meet with flying banners And honors on the way; And all their sad privations Shall to the winds be cast, For all the boys are coming home-- There's victory at last.--CHORUS.

3. O happy wives and children, Light up your hearts and homes, For see, with martial music, "The conquering hero comes,"

With flags and streamers flying, While drums are beating fast; For all the boys are coming home-- There's victory at last.--CHORUS.

Sung at Fort Sumter, April 14, 1865.

See page 42.]

APPENDIX.