SKETCHES FROM THE SEAT OF WAR
by A Jewish Soldier
Four hundred thousand men, well armed and well drilled, ready at one man's command to
engage in a deadly conflict their foes and countrymen, —such is the picture, the two
contending hosts present to the world at this moment on the banks of the Potomac. Terrible
as this martial array must appear to the distant reader, whose imagination may perchance
have been assisted by graphic description in estimating the number and power of such
hosts, yet to realize the degree of physical power concentrated in such an army for
destructive purposes, it is necessary to see what art, money, and labor have effected in
the organization and equipment of these legions; what skill has been devoted to the
construction of those forts, built for the protection of the defenders and the destruction
of the enemy; how those blockhouses command the military roads and those batteries the
block houses; then trace, as well as you may, the mathematical precision with which those
brigades are grouped together in certain lines and curves, so as to give the greatest
effect to their fire and the least danger to themselves; follow up those new roads behind
the hills and through the bushes, apparently constructed for no earthly purpose, yet
wisely intended to attack an assailing force in the rear; then cast your eyes on those
rifled guns, which cover the roads, hills and forts, ready to consume those piles of
conical balls that are heaped up at their side— all this and much more you must have seen
before a faint idea can be formed of the powerful hosts that are at present encamped on
the banks of the Potomac.
A traveler coming from the North has the best opportunity for realizing the vastness of
those warlike preparations. They open gradually upon him, and prepare him for a more
thorough conception of the imposing sights that are in store for him across the river.
The signs of war, which are not very discernable in the North, become more marked as
you travel from Philadelphia southward, the entire road being guarded by soldiers,
especially the bridges, boats and junctions; and more especially still, the delightful
city of Baltimore, which has earned such a prominent place in History through that heroic
attack on the Massachusetts volunteers, when they hastened to the rescue of the capital,
and is even at the present moment only kept in order by the electro- magnetism of certain
batteries, called Fort McHenry, supported by certain red-breeched gentlemen, not
altogether inexperienced in the use of steel. Sentries, companies and regiments are
stationed at short distances, and now and then as the train stops, they call upon you for
newspapers, which moderate request every one tries to meet, and not only rarely some
patriotic lady will take out of her basket some refreshments she had provided for herself
on her journey, and hand them to the shivering soldiers.
The nights begin to get cold, the hills are covered with snow, the camp-fires are but a
poor protection against the keen winds that blow over those mountains, the tents will
scarcely keep out the rain and sleet— all this, thoughtful ladies and gentlemen, bear in
mind, and provide yourselves accordingly with such trifling gifts as can alleviate, though
not altogether remove, the soldiers' sufferings.
As you approach Washington, the camps increase in size and number, and on entering the
capital, you feel that you are indeed approaching the scenes of actual conflict; a company
of soldiers, with glistening bayonets, receive you at the station; strong patrols go to
and fro through the streets, to pick up stray soldiers and officers; mounted sentinels, at
the corner of each street, remind you of Paris as it looked after the coup d'etat of 1851;
hundreds of army wagons roll lazily along towards the place of their destination—
galloping officers and orderlies fill your eyes with dust— soldiers coming and going—
batteries, ambulances, sutler's cars, cavalry and infantry pass in every direction, but,
if you are a loyal citizen, you can, nevertheless, move about with the freedom allowed in
the North, and find no difficulty in even obtaining a pass for visiting our lines in
Virginia.
Every one must of course go there. Never before has the "sacred soil" of
Virginia been trodden by so many Northern mudsills, and never before has such a miserable
delusion been so thoroughly exploded. Why, I expected on putting my foot on that
"sacred soil," to feel a certain holy feeling penetrate my bowels; many, more
sanguine than myself, were sure these Virginia's fields would entirely regenerate their
fallen natures, giving to them the feelings of gentlemen and the aspirations of angels.
Notwithstanding all these expectations, the truth must be spoken, and true it is, that
there is nowhere in the inhabited portions of the North, such a total absence of civilized
life, such wretched roads, such broken down shanties, such mud, in fact, such living
witnesses of Noah's flood, all of which, so far from sanctifying our disposition, had a
most damaging effect on our forms of expression, and a most revolutionary influence on our
teetotal principles. Nature, indeed, has been lavish in her gifts to the South, and had
art in the least developed the beauties of these states, it would be the Paradise of the
world. Beauty of scenery and fertility of soil are the characteristics of that country,
but its inhabitants, spoiled by an over- indulgent mother, have become rebellious against
her and mischievous to their fellow-citizens, thus furnishing another illustration of that
saying uttered by Moses, "When Jeshurun grew fat, he kicked."
Even the present scene of action, destitute though it be of the signs of civilization,
nevertheless presents a pleasing picture, when viewed on a fine day from the balcony of
the Capitol. The Potomac, as smooth as a mirror, reflects with great brilliancy the rays
of the sun; the woods, that formerly covered her banks, have been levelled by the
soldiers, only here and there a tree remains to serve as a shelter to the sentinel on a
rainy night; the hills and valleys have even, at this advanced season, some of the rich
verdure of summer; in other parts of the Potomac, where the destructive foot of the army
has not trod, the primitive features of the scenery still remain unchanged— thick forests
cover its banks, and a rural simplicity, the more striking in contrast with the active
scenes in the neighborhood, gives a charming aspect to the favored spots.
We look beyond the river, and then have a full view of the camps, of thousands of tents
and many flagstaffs, we see the circular line of forts surrounded by ditches and abatis,
the soldiers going through their evolutions, and bands of music accompanying them. But
from this survey, so gratifying through the pomp it displays to our eyes, we are naturally
led to reflect on former days, when no armies were needed to protect our capitol, when a
united people sent their representatives to this city, and no force was required to
maintain the authority of the law. Alas! why should those noble rivers be navigated by
men-of- war, to the exclusion of peaceful commerce, which sent comfort and wealth to the
inhabitants of the coasts? Why should those fields be overrun by hostile armies, where
formerly the laborer could peaceably till his soil? But, at present, it is of little use
to raise lamentations. It is the time for action, the time for sacrifices of blood and
treasure, the time for the display of patriotism and self-denial.
The crisis, through which we are now passing, may leave us a wiser and better people,
the teachings of adversity may enable us more fully to appreciate the blessings of
prosperity, the institutions of this country may derive therefrom a certain stability and
firmness which hitherto have not characterized them. At the same time, half a million of
our young men, inured to all kinds of hardships in camp, will return to their homes with
manlier ideas and more vigorous constitution, whilst the citizens in general will no
longer allow the affairs of the government to be mismanaged by hungry politicians. With
such fruits resulting from this war, it will not be one of unalloyed evil, but will, on
the contrary, purify the nation of its social as well as its political relations, and thus
complete what the Revolutionary war has left unfinished. There anticipations must
reconcile us to the temporary devastations of war, to the desolation of happy homes, to
the privation of camp life, and deadly struggle with our foe.
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