Pregnant with Ruin

Logo of the Jamestown Exposition, held from 26 April to 1 December 1907, at Sewell's Point on Hampton Roads, in Norfolk, Virginia, in commemoration of the 300th anniversary of the foundation of Jamestown.
Logo of the Jamestown Exposition, held from 26 April to 1 December 1907, at Sewell’s Point on Hampton Roads, in Norfolk, Virginia, in commemoration of the 300th anniversary of the foundation of Jamestown.

VIRGINIANS FIRST DEFIED ENGLAND. 

AN INTERESTING HISTORIC DOCUMENT SHOWS THAT NORFOLK (VA.) CITIZENS WERE AHEAD OF PHILADELPHIANS.

The coming Jamestown Exposition brings to light many historic facts long since forgotten. While loath to leave the British Empire, the patriots of Norfolk, Va., were the first to resent the aggression of the British Stamp Act, which led to the American Revolution. Under the name of “The Sons of Liberty” they assembled in Norfolk on March 13, and in bold and determined phrases announced their intention of resisting any further aggression on the part of the English Parliament. This was two months before the promulgation of the celebrated Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence and nearly five before the thirteen colonies assembled in Philadelphia to forever cast off the authority of the British crown and start the country on a career of prosperity and splendor which will be celebrated at the Jamestown Exposition, to be held at Hampton Roads, near Norfolk, in 1907. Extracts:

Having taken into consideration the evident tendency of that oppressive and unconstitutional act of Parliament commonly called the Stamp Act, and being desirous that our sentiments should be known to posterity and recollecting that we are a part of the colony who first in General Assembly openly expressed their detestation to the said act, which is pregnant with ruin and productive of the most pernicious consequences, and unwilling to rivet shackles of slavery and oppression on ourselves and millions yet unborn, hereby resolve:

  1. That we acknowledge our lord and sovereign, King George the Third, to be our rightful and lawful king; and that we will at all times, to the utmost of our power and ability, support and defend his most sacred person, crown, and dignity; and shall always be ready, when constitutionally called upon, to assist his Majesty with our lives and fortunes and to defend his just rights and prerogatives.
  2. That we will by all lawful ways and means which Divine Providence has put into our hands defend ourselves in the full enjoyment of, and preserve inviolate to posterity, those inestimable privileges of all freeborn British subjects, of being taxed only by representatives of their own choosing, and of being tried by none but a jury of their peers; and that if we quietly submit to the execution of the said Stamp Act all our claims to civil liberty will be lost, and we will be deprived of the invaluable privileges aforementioned.
  3. That a committee be appointed who shall in such manner as they think proper go upon necessary business and make public the above resolutions, and that they correspond as they shall see occasion with the Associated Sons of and Friends to Liberty in the other British Colonies of America.

As a result of the adoption of the resolutions Lord Dunmore, the British Colonial Governor, made a demonstration before Norfolk, and several shots were fired into the city from the frigate Liverpool. As a result of this and other outrages the Norfolk people were ready to throw off all authority and join with the other colonies when the Philadelphia Declaration of Independence was promulgated.

— Extracted from Confederate Veteran, vol. XIV, no. 8, August 1906.

Wherever It Led Us

THE BANNER OF BARS.
BY T. C. HARBAUGH.

I see it to-day as it waved in its splendor
Where the Rapidan slips with a song to the sea;
I catch the bright gleams of the stars that adorned it
When gayly I followed the fortunes of Lee;
How proudly it waved in the breezes of heaven
And opened its folds ‘neath the sentinel pines!
How sadly we furled it, how slowly and tender,
To float not again on the old battle lines.

We gave it our love through its four years of glory,
Though torn by the hate of the shot and the shell;
Wherever it led us, how bravely we followed,
Nor shrank with a fear from the battle’s dread hell!
Around it in valley, on hilltop, and mountain
We rallied with cheers in the desperate fray;
The comrades we loved as the truest of brothers
Went down where it waved in their garments of gray.

Alone and half dreaming I sit in the gloaming,
A scar on my brow and a crutch on my knee,
Whilst out of the past that forever has vanished
A beautiful banner comes dancing to me;
They laugh oftentimes at the weary old Johnny;
And wonder, perhaps, why his eye is so bright.
They cannot see with me the beautiful vision
Of the banner I guarded by day and by night.

My love is as strong as the day that we furled it
And tearfully turned from the sheen of its stars;
We gave it our prayers and we gave it our blessing,
And Fame set a wreath on the banner of bars;
The bugles still echo deep down in the valley,
And eager I list for the old battle call;
I see the long lines of the gallant gray legions,
And a banner of beauty waves high over all.

The vision fades slowly away in the gloaming,
The banner I followed no longer I see,
But yonder methinks the old regiment’s passing—
The comrades who long ago battled with me;
How silent the ranks! Not the trill of a bugle.
I listen, but there is no tap of a drum;
They beckon to me, and I start from my dreaming,
And call to them gladly: “O comrades, I come!”

“I Learned It By Watching You!”

Yet, from letters which some of you have sent, and from many other sources, We learn that discordant practices have been introduced into the sacred liturgy by your communities or provinces (We speak of those only that belong to the Latin Rite). For while some are very faithful to the Latin language, others wish to use the vernacular within the choral office. Others, in various places, wish to exchange that chant which is called “Gregorian,” for newly-minted melodies. Indeed, some even insist that Latin should be wholly suppressed.

We must acknowledge that We have been somewhat disturbed and saddened by these requests. One may well wonder what the origin is of this new way of thinking and this sudden dislike for the past; one may well wonder why these things have been fostered.

Apostolic Letter, Sacrificium Laudis, of Pope Paul VI, 15 August 1966.

Dean Monro on Jura

Map of Jura, Joan Blaeu, Theatrum orbis terrarum sive Atlas novus, vol. v., 1654.
Map of Jura, Joan Blaeu, Theatrum orbis terrarum sive Atlas novus, vol. v., 1654.

Duray. Nairest that iyle layes Duray, ane ather fyne forrest for deire, inhabit and manurit at the coist syde, part be Clandonald of Kyntyre, pairt be Mac Gullayne of Douard, pairt be M’ Gellayne of Kinlochbuy, pairt be M’ Duffithie of Colvansay, ane iyle of twenty-four myle of length, lyand from the southwest to the northeist twale myle of sea from Gigay above written, and ane myle from Ha, quhar is twa Loches meetand uthers throughe mide iyle of salt water, to the lenthe of ane haff myle, and all the deire of the west pairt of that forrest, will be cahit be tainchess to that narrow entrey, and the next day callit west againe, be tainchess through the said narrow entres, and infinit deire slaine there, pairt of small woods. This iyle, as the ancient iylanders alledges, should be callit Deiray, taking the name from the Deire innorne Leid, quhilk has given it that name in auld times. In this iyle there is twa guid and save raids for shipps, the ane callit Lubnalierie, and the uther Loche Terbart, fornent others; the greatest hills in this iyle are chieflie Bencheelis, Bensenta, Corben, Benannoyre in Ardlaysay, ane chappel sometime the paroch kirke Kiternadill. The water of Lasay ther, the watter of Udergan, the watter of Glongargister, the waters of Knockbraick, Lindill, Caray, Ananbilley, all thir waters salmond slaine upon them, this iyle is full nobell coelts with certaine fresche water Loches, with meikell of profit.

Description of the Western Isles of Scotland, called Hybrides; by Mr Donald Monro High Dean of the Isles who travelled through the most of them in the year 1549.

Emperors Bowed the Head

Peter Paul Rubens, The Emblem of Christ Appearing to Constantine, 1662.
Peter Paul Rubens, The Emblem of Christ Appearing to Constantine, 1662.

As regards the Roman Emperors, immediately on their becoming Christians, their exaltation of the hierarchy was in proportion to its abject condition in the heathen period. Grateful converts felt that they could not do too much in its honour and service. Emperors bowed the head before the Bishops, kissed their hands and asked their blessing. When Constantine entered into the presence of the assembled Prelates at Nicæa, his eyes fell, the colour mounted up into his cheek, and his mien was that of a suppliant; he would not sit, till the Bishops bade him, and he kissed the wounds of the Confessors. Thus he set the example for the successors of his power, nor did the Bishops decline such honours. Royal ladies served them at table; victorious generals did penance for sin and asked forgiveness. When they quarrelled with them, and would banish them, their hand trembled when they came to sign the order, and after various attempts they gave up their purpose. Soldiers raised to sovereignty asked their recognition and were refused it. Cities under imperial displeasure sought their intervention, and the master of thirty legions found himself powerless to withstand the feeble voice of some aged travel-stained stranger.

Blessed John Henry Newman, A Letter Addressed to the Duke of Norfolk on Occasion of Mr. Gladstone’s Recent Expostulation (1874).

All Richmond Was Astir

But one spring day in April, 1861, all Richmond was astir. Schools were broken up, and knots of excited men gathered at every street corner. Sumter had been fired upon, and Lincoln had ordered the men of Virginia to rush upon their brethren of the South and put the rebellion down. Now “the die was cast,” our lot was with theirs, and come weal or woe, we would fight for independence. How merrily the sunbeams danced that day! how proud we children were of the great preparation for the illumination that night!—how few recked of the great underthrob of misery, grief and want! Every patriotic citizen had his house ablaze with a thousand lights, and the dark ones were marked. I remember distinctly my father taking us to see the Exchange Hotel and Ballard House with the glass balcony, stretching over the street and connecting the two houses, all glittering and reflecting the crystal lights. To us it was a great spectacle, and our hearts swelled with pride to think we could say to our tyrants: “Thus far shalt thou come, and no further.”

The excitement permeated the schools, and those of our number who lived in the dark houses, or the non-illuminators, were dubbed “Yankees,” “Abolitionists” and “Black Republicans,” and virtually ostracised. Saturdays we would spend in the lecture-rooms of the different churches we attended, where our mothers and grown-up sisters were busy plying the needle, and cutting out clothes for the soldier boys, and indulging in such talk about the vile usurpers as would fire our young hearts with indignation. Snatches of song improvised for the emergency—”Maryland, my Maryland,” “John Brown’s Body,” “There’s life in the Old Land Yet,” &c.— grew as familiar as “I want to be an Angel.” In fact, we had a parody which ran thus:

I want to be a soldier,
And with the soldiers stand,
A knapsack on my shoulder,
And musket in my hand;
And there beside Jeff Davis,
So glorious and so brave,
I’ll whip the cussed Yankee
And drive him to his grave.

But what were our boys doing while the girls were sewing up sand-bags to fortify Drewry’s Bluff? It seemed the “Demon of Destruction” was possessing the whole land. The boys were keeping their patriotism warm by playing “Yank” and “Reb” in mock battles, and so sorely did these young archers wound each other that steps had to be taken by the city authorities toward the suppression of these hostilities. I remember being on Church Hill on one occasion, when the rowdies from Rocketts, calling themselves Yankees, came upon our boys who were unarmed. Immediately our party of little girls flew to a coal-house near, which happened to be open for replenishing, and filling our little aprons with the dusky diamonds ran into the midst of a hot battle, screaming with all the enthusiasm of our young natures, “Kill them! kill them!” We bound up heads and filled pockets with “ammunition” till our nurses, noticing our escapade, came to carry us to our mammas to be punished for soiling our dresses.

— Miss Sallie Hunt, of Lynchburg, Va.; from “Our Women in the War.” The Lives They Lived; The Deaths They Died, Charleston: The News and Courier Book Presses, 1885.

A Disgraceful Race

We soon learned all the particulars of the memorable battle; how the festive congressmen had come with their wives, daughters, and sweethearts, on the outskirts of the army, seated in luxurious carriages, with hampers packed with champagne and all good things, to regale themselves withal, as from a safe place they would view the triumphant career of their Invincibles as they made the rebels bite the dust, and then to march over their traitorous corpses to Richmond. There, there was to be a grand ball; ladies had provided themselves with magnificent dresses, certainly expecting, after the battle was over, and the rebels were wiped out, to proceed serenely on their way to the Confederate Capital without meeting an obstacle.

When the “rebels” had been reinforced by the arch-rebels, Johnston and Jackson, with their wornout but gallant men, and when the Federals with their splendid army had turned and were frantically flying before those same “rebels,” they cared for nothing but to get away. The flight of that panic-stricken mob has often been described, and by many pens, none however so graphic as that which after treating of their disgraceful race, styled them the “Bull Runners”; the London Punch was, I believe, the author of that appropriate name.

Cornelia Peake McDonald, A Diary with Reminiscences of the War and Refugee Life in the Shenandoah Valley, 1860-1865.

FLIGHT OF DOODLES.

I come from old Manassas with a pocketful of fun,
I killed forty Yankees with a single barreled gun;
It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Big Yankee, little Yankee, all run or die!

I saw all the Yankees at Bull Run,
They fought like the devil when the battle first begun.
But it don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
They took to their heels, boys — you oughta seen ’em fly!

I saw Old Fuss-and-Feathers Scott, twenty miles away,
His horses both stuck up their ears — you oughta hear ’em neigh;
But it don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Old Scott fled like the devil, boys — root hog or die!

I then saw a “Tiger” from the Old Cresecent City,
He cut down the Yankees without any pity;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
We whipped the Yankee boys and made the boobies cry.

I saw South Carolina, the first in The Cause,
Shake the dirty Yankees till she broke all their jaws;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
South Carolina give ’em hell, boys — root hog or die!

I saw old Virginia, standing firm and true,
She fought mighty hard to whip a mighty dirty crew;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Old Virginia’s blood and thunder — root hog or die!

I saw old Georgia, the next in the van,
She cut down the Yankees almost to a man;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Georgia fought the fight, boys — root hog or die!

I saw Alabama in the middle of the storm,
She stood like a giant in the contest so warm;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Alabama fought the Yankees, boys, till the last one did fly!

I saw Texas go in with a smile,
But I tell you what it is, she made the Yankees bile.
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Texas is the devil, boys — root hog or die!

I saw North Carolina in the deepest of the battle.
She knocked down the Yankees and made their bones rattle;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
North Carolina’s got the grit, boys — root hog or die!

Old Florida came in with a terrible shout,
She frightened all the Yankees till their eyes stuck out;
Oh! It don’t make a niff-a-stiff’rence to neither you nor I,
Florida’s death on Yankees, boys — root hog or die!

— Anonymous.