by W. H. Rhodes
[Decoration]
III.
_THE DESERTED SCHOOLHOUSE._
"Oh! never may a son of thine, Where'er his wand'ring steps incline, Forget the sky which bent above His childhood, like a dream of love."
--WHITTIER.
There is no silence like that sombre gloom which sometimes settles downupon the deserted playgrounds, the unoccupied benches, and the voicelesshalls of an old schoolhouse. But if, in addition to abandonment, thefingers of decay have been busy with their work; if the moss has beenpermitted to grow, and the mould to gather; if the cobwebs cluster, likeclouds, in all the corners, and the damp dust incrusts the window-paneslike the frosts of a northern winter; if the old well has caved in, andthe little paths through the brushwood been smothered, and the fencesrotted down, and the stile gone to ruin, then a feeling of utterdesolation seizes upon the soul, which no philosophy can master, norecollections soothe, and no lapse of time dissipate.
Perchance a lonely wanderer may be observed, traversing the same sceneswhich many years ago were trodden by his ungrown feet, looking pensivelyat each tree which sheltered his boyhood, peeping curiously under thebroken benches on which he once sat, and turning over most carefullywith his cane every scrap of old paper, that strangely enough hadsurvived the winds and the rains of many winters.
Such a schoolhouse now stands near the little village of Woodville, inthe State of North Carolina, and such a wanderer was I in the autumn of1852.
Woodville was the scene of my first studies, my earliest adventures, andmy nascent loves. There I was taught to read and write, to swim andskate, to wrestle and box, to play marbles and make love. There I foughtmy first fight, had the mumps and the measles, stole my firstwatermelon, and received my first flogging. And I can never forget, thatwithin that tattered schoolroom my young heart first swelled with thosebudding passions, whose full development in others has so often changedthe fortunes of the world. There eloquence produced its first throb,ambition struck its first spark, pride mounted its first stilts, lovefelt its first glow. There the eternal ideas of God and heaven, ofpatriotism and country, of love and woman, germinated in my bosom; andthere, too, Poesy sang her first song in my enchanted ear, lured me faroff into the "grand old woods" alone, sported with the unlanguagedlongings of my boyish heart, and subdued me for the first time with thatmysterious sorrow, whose depths the loftiest intellect cannot sound, andyet whose wailings mournfully agitate many a schoolboy's breast.
I reached the village of Woodville one afternoon in November, after anabsence of twenty-two years. Strange faces greeted me, instead of old,familiar ones; huge dwellings stood where once I had rambled throughcornfields, groves of young pines covered the old common in which I hadonce played at ball, and everything around presented such an aspect ofchange, that I almost doubted my personal identity. Nor was myastonishment diminished in the slightest degree when the landlord of theinn announced his name, and I recognized it as once belonging to aplaymate famous for mischief and fleetness. Now he appeared bloated,languid, and prematurely old. Bushy whiskers nearly covered his face, ahorrid gash almost closed up one of his eyes, and an ominous limp toldthat he would run no more foot-races forever.
Unwilling to provoke inquiries by mentioning my own name, and doublyanxious to see the old schoolhouse, which I had traveled many miles outof my way to visit, I took my cane and strolled leisurely along the roadthat my feet had hurried over so often in boyhood.
The schoolhouse was situated in a small grove of oaks and hickories,about half a mile from the village, so as to be more retired, but at thesame time more convenient for those who resided in the country. Myimagination flew faster than my steps, and under its influence the halfmile dwindled to a mere rod. Passing a turn in the road, which concealedit until within a few paces, it suddenly burst upon my vision in all thehorrors of its desolation. A fearful awe took possession of me, and as Istood beneath the trees I had so often climbed in years gone by, I couldnot refrain from looking uneasily behind me, and treading more softlyupon the sacred leaves, just commencing to wither and fall.
I approached the door with as much reverence as ever crept Jew orMussulman, on bended knee and with downcast eye, to the portals of theKabbala or Holy of Holies, and as I reached forth my hand to turn thelatch, I involuntarily paused to listen before I crossed the threshold.
Ah, manhood! what are all thy triumphs compared to a schoolboy's palms!What are thy infamies compared to his disgraces! As head of his class,he carries a front which a monarch might emulate in vain; as master ofthe playground, he wields a sceptre more indisputable than Czar or Caesarever bore! As a favorite, he provokes a bitterer hostility than evergreeted a Bute or a Buckingham; as a coward or traitor, he is loadedwith a contumely beneath which Arnold or Hull would have sunk forever!
I listened. The pleasant hum of busy voices, the sharp tones of themaster, the mumbled accents of hurried recitations, all were gone. Thegathering shadows of evening corresponded most fittingly with thedeepening gloom of my recollections, and I abandoned myself to theirguidance, without an effort to control or direct them.
I stood _alone_ upon the step. Where was he, whose younger hand alwayslocked in mine, entered that room and left it so often by my side; thatbright-eyed boy, whose quick wit and genial temper won for him theaffections both of master and scholar; that gentle spirit that kindledinto love, or saddened into tears, as easily as sunshine dallies with aflower or raindrops fall from a summer cloud; that brother, whose geniuswas my pride, whose courage my admiration, whose soul my glory; he whofaltered not before the walls of Camargo, when but seven men, out of asmany hundred in his regiment, volunteered to go forward, under thecommand of Taylor, to endure all the hardships of a soldier's life, in atropical clime, and to brave all the dangers of a three days' assaultupon a fortified city; he who fought so heroically at Monterey, andescaped death in so many forms on the battle-field, only to meet it atlast as a victim to contagion, contracted at the bedside of a friend?Where was he? The swift waters of the Rio Grande, as they hurry past hisunsculptured grave, sing his requiem, and carry along proudly to theeverlasting sea the memory of his noble self sacrifice, as the puresttribute they bear upon their tide!
Such were my thoughts, as I stood pensively upon the block that servedas a step when I was boy, and which still occupied its ancient position.I noticed that a large crack extended its whole length, and severalshrubs, of no insignificant size, were growing out of the aperture. Thisprepared me for the wreck and ruin of the interior. The door had beentorn from its hinge, and was sustained in an upright position by a baror prop on the inside. This readily gave way on a slight pressure, andas the old door tumbled headlong upon the floor, it awoke a thousandconfused and muffled echoes, more startling to me than a clap of theloudest thunder. But the moment I passed the threshold, the gloom andterror instantly vanished. I noticed that the back door was open, and incasting my glance to the upper end of the room, where the Rev. Mr. Craigonce presided in state, my eyes were greeted by an apparition, that hadevidently become domiciliated in the premises, and whose appearancerevolutionized the whole tenor of my thoughts. Before me stood one ofthose venerable-looking billy-goats, of sedate eye, fantastic beard, andcrumpled horn, the detestation of perfumed belle, and the dread ofmischievous urchin. I had seen a _fac-simile_ of him many years before,not exactly in the same place, but hard by in a thicket of pines. Icould almost fancy it to be the ghost of the murdered ancestor, or somephantom sent to haunt me near the spot of his execution. I shed no tear,I heaved no sigh, as I trod the dust-covered floor of the "WoodvilleAcademy," but greeted my _Alma Mater_ with a shout of almost boyishlaughter as I approached the spot where the pedagogue once sat upon histhrone.
To explain why it was that my feelings underwent a revulsion so sudden,I must relate the Story of the Murdered Billy-goat.
Colonel Averitt, a brave soldier in the war of 1812, retired from thearmy at the termination of hostilities, and settled
upon a farmadjoining the village of Woodville. He was rather a queer old gentleman;had a high Roman nose, and, on muster days, was the general admirationof all Bertie County. He then officiated as colonel commandant ofmilitia, and dressed in full uniform, with a tall, white feather wavingmost belligerently from his three-cornered cocked hat. He wore a sashand sword, and always reviewed the troops on horseback.
One day, after a statutory review of the militia of the county, aproposition was started to form a volunteer company of mounted hussars.A nucleus was soon obtained, and in less than a week a sufficient numberhad enrolled themselves to authorize the Colonel to order a drill. Ithappened on a Saturday; the place selected was an old field near theschoolhouse, and I need not add that the entire battalion of boys wasout in full force, as spectators of the warlike exercises. How they gotthrough with the parade, I have forgotten; but I do remember that themania for soldiering, from that day forward, took possession of theschool.
The enrollment at first consisted entirely of infantry, and severalweeks elapsed before anybody ventured to suggest a mounted corps. Lateone afternoon, however, as we were returning homeward, with drumsbeating and colors flying, we disturbed a flock of lazy goats, browsingupon dry grass, and evincing no great dread for the doughty warriorsadvancing. Our captain, whose dignity was highly offended at this utterwant of respect, gave the order to "form column!" "present arms!" and"charge!" Austrian nor Spaniard, Italian nor Prussian, before theresistless squadrons of Murat or Macdonald, ever displayed finerqualities of light infantry or flying artillery, than did the vanquishedenemy of the "Woodville Cadets" on this memorable occasion. They weretaken entirely by surprise, and, without offering the least resistance,right-about-faced, and fled precipitously from the field. Theirterrified bleating mingled fearfully with our shouts of victory; andwhen, at the command of our captain. I blew the signal to halt andrendezvous, our brave fellows magnanimously gave up the pursuit, andreturned from the chase, bringing with them no less than five full-grownprisoners, as trophies of victory!
A council of war was immediately called, to determine in what way weshould dispose of our booty. After much learned discussion, and somewarm disputes, the propositions were narrowed down to two:
Plan the first was, to cut off all the beard of each prisoner, flog, andrelease him.
Plan the second, on the contrary, was, to conduct the prisoners to theplayground, treat them kindly, and endeavor to train them to the bit andsaddle, so as to furnish the officers with what they needed somuch,--war-steeds for battle, fiery chargers for review.
The vote was finally taken, and plan number two was adopted by aconsiderable majority.
Obstacles are never insurmountable to boys and Bonapartes! Our _coupd'etat_ succeeded quite as well as that of the 2d of December, andbefore a week elapsed the chief officers were all splendidly mounted andfully equipped.
At this stage of the war against the "bearded races," the cavalryquestion was propounded by one of the privates in Company A. For hispart, he declared candidly that he was tired of marching andcountermarching afoot, and that he saw no good reason why an invasion ofthe enemy's country should not at once be undertaken, to secure animalsenough to mount the whole regiment.
Another council was held, and the resolve unanimously adopted, to crossthe border in full force, on the next Saturday afternoon.
In the meantime, the clouds of war began to thicken in another quarter.Colonel Averitt had been informed of the _coup d'etat_ related above,and determined to prevent any further depredations on his flock by astroke of masterly generalship, worthy of his prowess in the late warwith Great Britain.
And now it becomes proper to introduce upon the scene the most importantpersonage in this history, and the hero of the whole story. I allude, ofcourse, to the bold, calm, dignified, undaunted and imperturbablenatural guardian of the Colonel's fold--Billy Goat!
He boasted of a beard longer, whiter, and more venerable than ahigh-priest in Masonry; his mane emulated that of the king of beasts;his horns were as crooked, and almost as long, as the Cashie River, onwhose banks he was born; his tail might have been selected by someSpanish hidalgo, as a coat of arms, emblematic of the pride and hauteurof his family; whilst his _tout ensemble_ presented that dignity ofdemeanor, majesty of carriage, consciousness of superior fortune, anddefiance of all danger, which we may imagine characterized the elderNapoleon previous to the battle of Waterloo. But our hero possessedmoral qualities quite equal to his personal traits. He was brave to afault, combative to a miracle, and as invincible in battle as he wasbelligerent in mood. The sight of a coat-tail invariably excited hisanger, and a red handkerchief nearly distracted him with rage. Indeed,he had recently grown so irascible that Colonel Averitt was compelled tokeep him shut up in the fowl-yard, a close prisoner, to protect him froma justly indignant neighborhood.
Such was the champion that the Colonel now released and placed at thehead of the opposing forces. Saturday came at last, and the entiremorning was devoted to the construction of the proper number of woodenbits, twine bridle-reins, leather stirrups and pasteboard saddles. Bytwelve o'clock everything was ready, and the order given to march. Wewere disappointed in not finding the enemy at his accustomed haunt, andhad to prolong our march nearly half a mile before we came up with him.Our scouts, however, soon discovered him in an old field, lying encampedbeneath some young persimmon bushes, and entirely unconscious ofimpending danger. We approached stealthily, according to our usual plan,and then at a concerted signal rushed headlong upon the foe. But we hadno sooner given the alarm than our enemies sprang to their feet, andclustered about a central object, which we immediately recognized, toour chagrin and terror, as none other than Billy Goat himself.
The captain, however, was not to be daunted or foiled; he boldly made aplunge at the champion of our adversaries, and would have succeeded inseizing him by the horns, if he had not been unfortunately butted overbefore he could reach them. Two or three of our bravest comrades flew tohis assistance, but met with the same fate before they could rescue himfrom danger. The remainder of us drew off a short but prudent distancefrom the field of battle, to hold a council of war, and determine upon aplan of operations. In a few moments our wounded companions joined us,and entreated us to close at once upon the foe and surround him. Theydeclared they were not afraid to beard the lion in his den, and thatbeing butted heels over head two or three times but whetted theircourage, and incited them to deeds of loftier daring. Their eloquence,however, was more admired than their prudence, and a large majority ofthe council decided that "it was inopportune, without other munitions ofwar than those we had upon the field, to risk a general engagement." Itwas agreed, however, _nem. con._, that on the next Saturday we wouldprovide ourselves with ropes and fishing-poles, and such other arms asmight prove advantageous, and proceed to surround and noose our mostformidable enemy, overpower him by the force of numbers, and take himprisoner at all hazards. Having fully determined upon this plan ofattack, we hoisted our flag once more, ordered the drum to beat YankeeDoodle, and retreated in most excellent order from the field--our foenot venturing to pursue us.
The week wore slowly and uneasily away. The clouds of war were gatheringrapidly, and the low roll of distant thunder announced that a battlestorm of no ordinary importance was near at hand. Colonel Averitt, bysome traitorous trick of war, had heard of our former defeat, andpublicly taunted our commander with his failure. Indeed, more than oneof the villagers had heard of the disastrous result of the campaign, andsent impertinent messages to those who had been wounded in theencounter. Two or three of the young ladies, also, in the girls'department, had been inoculated with the _fun_ (as it was absurdlydenominated), and a leather medal was pinned most provokingly to theshort jacket of the captain by one of those hoydenish Amazons.
All these events served to whet the courage of our men, and strange asit may appear, to embitter our hostility to our victorious foe. Some ofthe officers proceeded so far as to threaten Colonel Averitt himself,and at one time
, I am confident, he stood in almost as much danger asthe protector of his flock.
Saturday came at last, and at the first blast of the bugle, we formedinto line, and advanced with great alacrity into the enemy's country.After marching half an hour, our scouts hastily returned, with theinformation that the enemy was drawn up, in full force, near the sceneof the Persimmon bush battle. We advanced courageously to withinspeaking distance, and then halted to breathe the troops and prepare forthe engagement. We surveyed our enemies with attention, but withoutalarm. There they stood right before us!
"Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form; Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm!"
Our preparations were soon made, and at the command of the captain, weseparated into single files, one half making a _detour_ to the right,and the other to the left, so as to encircle the foe. Our instructionswere to spare all non-combatants, to pass by as unworthy of notice allminor foes, and to make a simultaneous rush upon the proud champion ofour adversaries.
By this masterly manoeuvre it was supposed we should be enabled toescape unharmed, or at any rate without many serious casualties. But asit afterward appeared, we did not sufficiently estimate the strength andactivity of our enemy.
After this preparatory manoeuvre had been successfully accomplished,our captain gave the order to "charge!" in a stentorian voice, and atthe same time rushed forward most gallantly at the head of thesquadron. The post of honor is generally the post of danger also, and soit proved on this occasion; for before the captain could grapple withthe foe, Billy Goat rose suddenly on his hinder legs, and uttering aloud note of defiance, dashed with lightning speed at the breast of ourcommander, and at a single blow laid him prostrate on the field. Thenwheeling quickly, ere any of his assailants could attack his rear flank,he performed the same exploit upon the first and second lieutenants, andmade an unsuccessful pass at the standard-bearer, who eluded the dangerby a scientific retreat. At this moment, when the fortunes of the dayhung, as it were, on a single hair, our drummer, who enjoyed the_sobriquet_ of "Weasel," advanced slowly but chivalrously upon the foe.
As the hosts of Israel and Gath paused upon the field of Elah, andawaited with fear and trembling the issue of the single-handed contestbetween David and Goliah; as Roman and Sabine stood back and reposed ontheir arms, whilst Horatio and Curiatii fought for the destiny of Romeand the mastery of the world, so the "Woodville Cadets" halted in theirtracks on this memorable day, and all aghast with awe and admiration,watched the progress of the terrible duello between "Weasel," thedrummer boy, and Billy Goat, the hero of the battle of the Persimmonbush.
The drummer first disengaged himself from the incumbrance of his martialmusic, then threw his hat fiercely upon the ground, and warily andcircumspectly approached his foe. Nor was that foe unprepared, forrearing as usual on his nether extremities, he bleated out a long noteof contempt and defiance, and dashed suddenly upon the "Weasel."
Instead of waiting to receive the force of the blow upon his breast orbrow, the drummer wheeled right-about face, and falling suddenly uponall fours with most surprising dexterity, presented a less vulnerablepart of his body to his antagonist, who, being under full headway, wascompelled to accept the substituted buttress, and immediately plantedthere a herculean thump. I need not say that the drummer was hurled manyfeet heels over head, by this disastrous blow; but he had obtained thevery advantage he desired to secure, and springing upon his feet heleaped quicker than lightning upon the back of his foe, and in spite ofevery effort to dislodge him, sat there in security and triumph!
With a loud huzza, the main body of the "Cadets" now rushed forward, andafter a feeble resistance, succeeded in overpowering the champion of ourfoes.
As a matter of precaution, we blindfolded him with severalhandkerchiefs, and led him away in as much state as the Emperor Aureliandisplayed when he carried Zenobia to Rome, a prisoner at hischariot-wheels.
The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. A council of wardecided that he should be taken into a dense pine thicket, theresuspended head downwards, and thrashed _ad libitum_, by the whole army.
The sentence was carried into execution immediately; and though he wascut down and released after our vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it totruth and history to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of abroken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with all the honors ofwar.
If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may add inconclusion, that the Rev. Mr. Craig avenged his _manes_, by wearing outa chinquapin apiece on the backs of "Weasel," the captain and officers,and immediately afterward disbanded the whole army.