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Letters From Lee’s Army


ISSUE:  Summer 1977

FROM A LETTER BY MY GREAT GRANDFATHER,
HAM CHAMBERLAYNE, VIRGINIAN,
AT THE CIVIL WAR FRONT, 1862

For who would change
our circle of seasons
bringing new beauty
with every revolving moon.

There is scarcely
a day of the whole year
fails to bring
a beauty of its own.

Contemplation of nature
gives pleasure unlike others;
pleasure wholly pure.

When passed,
leaving no sting of regret.
When present
never palling on the mind.

A strange tender melancholy
hangs about first fall days.
Some happiness some
state of being
never yet imagined fully
yearned for by instinct.

In every engagement
as the fire has grown hotter
and death in many horrid shapes
came nearer and nearer
the more vivid
have grown images of scenes
and pleasures past.
Imagined parlour scenes
and home circles strike
amidst angry buzzing
Minie balls.

Fall weather has come again,
the year composing itself
to a decent death.

The nearer we are to the enemy
the greater the inclination
to jest.

HAM CHAMBERLAYNE TO HIS MOTHER,
MARTHA BURDELL CHAMBERLAYNE

FROM CAMP AT BUNKER HILL, OCT. 4th, 1862;
HD. QRS. ART. CORPS CAMP
NEAR BUNKER HILL, OCT. 9th, 1862

Now, you may imagine
what time it is.
The great round moon
has just risen
to give its light
mellow, palpable,
fit to bathe in.

Moonlight is too fine
a thing to waste in camp
among idle soldiers.

I don’t need more than one
moonbeam to ride off
to home and friends
back to when war was unknown
and to the future when war
will be forgot.

I’ll tell you a pet
plan of mine.
I shall polish for myself
a stout cudgel
when peace is ratified.
The first man who
fires so much as a parlour
pistol, I shall break
his head. Astonished
if he has brains.

It sometimes astonishes me
to perceive how hardened
I’m becoming.
Such variety of suffering
has met my eye
all seem indifferent.

I have for a long time
made up my mind
about Miss L
as to the future.
It is the past that bothers me.
I don’t mean to blame her.

HAM CHAMBERLAYNE TO LUCY PARK
CHAMBERLAYNE, HIS SISTER, FROM
HEADQUARTERS, ART. CORPS. OCT. 13th, 1862

When by accident I
see Gen. Lee there looms
up some king of men.
Was it King Henry whose son
was lost at sea;
whereafter he never smiled.
In weight he carried
to suppress all joy
he was but a fool to Lee.

When you and I are whitehaired
and tell huge stories of these times
then the shadow of Lee, lengthening
will mark a continent with giant form.
Big Thing!

Why can I never write on
without feeling somehow ashamed?
There must be some taste ludicrous
in high emotion
the instant we cease to
sympathize with it.

HAM CHAMBERLAYNE TO HIS MOTHER
FROM CAMP MAURY, NEAR MILFORD
FEB.11, 1863

Nor are spring days
our only solace.

We are occasionally blessed
by elderly spinsters
and very young girls,

substantial comforts
of chicken salad,
cold mutton & celery,
in exchange for our
delectable society,
wishes for peace,
slang, and camp jokes.

About the hour of sunset
may be seen
not one
but nearer a score
of riders.
We go, we find mud.
We talk, we flatter.
We dance. We return,
Dull, duller.

Time may pass more pleasantly
and guests be more contented
at these homely old Virginia frolics
that sensibly,
commence at dark
and foolishly,
hardly end before light.

TO DR. GEO. BAGBY
FROM HD. QRS. LIGHT ARTLRY.
NEAR RICHMOND MARCH 12, 1863

Brig. Gen’1 Thos. M. Jones
while leading his men
to the charge in battle
saw a mere boy
struck full in the breast
by two bullets, reel
into the corner of a fence.

Gen’1 Jones ordered one
of his staff to dismount
and see if he wanted anything.

In answer to whether
he wanted water
the lad gasped “No—
I don’t want anything—
Tell the boys
if they are short
of cartridges
my cartridge box is full.”

HAM CHAMBERLAYNE TO DR. GEO. BAGBY AT
JUDGE A. L. DABNEY’S, HINDS CO., MISS.
20th JUNE, 1865

I wrote to sister
the primary ideas
I had, to look to the future
as a civil state
if not peaceful.

I wrote her
about certain letters
which might be of great value
to me in one career
the one I most incline to
suiting best a broken
down soldier.

But Mother dissuades
and in truth
the age of the sword
of fortune is gone by.

What do you think of a Hegira
to regions where
the Great Bear is no longer seen
and men walk on their heads?

Virginia is dead.
My very heart weeps
for her that was—
what have we to do
with her that is?

FROM THE REV. DR. SA. STEEL
TO C. G. CHAMBERLAYNE
FROM THE DEN, MANSFIELD, LA.
APRIL 27, 1932

I knew your father.
We were standing together
on the sidewalk on Sycamore St.
when a company of Petersburg soldiers
marched to Blandford Cemetery
to decorate the graves.

They carried a brand new U. S. flag.
And there was just enough breeze
to keep it stretched.

I remarked it was
a beautiful flag.
Your father replied,
“Yes, it is the most beautiful
flag. I fought against it
but I love it.”

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