"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 down upon the deserted playgrounds, the unoccupied benches, and the voiceless halls of an old schoolhouse. But if, in addition to abandonment, the fingers of decay have been busy with their work; if the moss has been permitted to grow, and the mould to gather; if the cobwebs cluster, like clouds, in all the corners, and the damp dust incrusts the window-panes like the frosts of a northern winter; if the old well has caved in, and the little paths through the brushwood been smothered, and the fences rotted down, and the stile gone to ruin, then a feeling of utter desolation seizes upon the soul, which no philosophy can master, no recollections soothe, and no lapse of time dissipate.
Perchance a lonely wanderer may be observed, traversing the same scenes which many years ago were trodden by his ungrown feet, looking pensively at each tree which sheltered his boyhood, peeping curiously under the broken benches on which he once sat, and turning over most carefully with his cane every scrap of old paper, that strangely enough had survived the winds and the rains of many winters.
Such a schoolhouse now stands near the little village of Woodville, in the State of North Carolina, and such a wanderer was I in the autumn of 1852.
Woodville was the scene of my first studies, my earliest adventures, and my nascent loves. There I was taught to read and write, to swim and skate, to wrestle and box, to play marbles and make love. There I fought my first fight, had the mumps and the measles, stole my first watermelon, and received my first flogging. And I can never forget, that within that tattered schoolroom my young heart first swelled with those budding passions, whose full development in others has so often changed the fortunes of the world. There eloquence produced its first throb, ambition struck its first spark, pride mounted its first stilts, love felt its first glow. There the eternal ideas of God and heaven, of patriotism and country, of love and woman, germinated in my bosom; and there, too, Poesy sang her first song in my enchanted ear, lured me far off into the "grand old woods" alone, sported with the unlanguaged longings of my boyish heart, and subdued me for the first time with that mysterious sorrow, whose depths the loftiest intellect cannot sound, and yet whose wailings mournfully agitate many a schoolboy's breast.
I reached the village of Woodville one afternoon in November, after an absence of twenty-two years. Strange faces greeted me, instead of old, familiar ones; huge dwellings stood where once I had rambled through cornfields, groves of young pines covered the old common in which I had once played at ball, and everything around presented such an aspect of change, that I almost doubted my personal identity. Nor was my astonishment diminished in the slightest degree when the landlord of the inn announced his name, and I recognized it as once belonging to a playmate famous for mischief and fleetness. Now he appeared bloated, languid, and prematurely old. Bushy whiskers nearly covered his face, a horrid gash almost closed up one of his eyes, and an ominous limp told that he would run no more foot-races forever.
Unwilling to provoke inquiries by mentioning my own name, and doubly anxious to see the old schoolhouse, which I had traveled many miles out of my way to visit, I took my cane and strolled leisurely along the road that 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 the same time more convenient for those who resided in the country. My imagination flew faster than my steps, and under its influence the half mile dwindled to a mere rod. Passing a turn in the road, which concealed it until within a few paces, it suddenly burst upon my vision in all the horrors of its desolation. A fearful awe took possession of me, and as I stood beneath the trees I had so often climbed in years gone by, I could not refrain from looking uneasily behind me, and treading more softly upon the sacred leaves, just commencing to wither and fall.
I approached the door with as much reverence as ever crept Jew or Mussulman, on bended knee and with downcast eye, to the portals of the Kabbala or Holy of Holies, and as I reached forth my hand to turn the latch, 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 of the playground, he wields a sceptre more indisputable than Czar or Csar ever bore! As a favorite, he provokes a bitterer hostility than ever greeted a Bute or a Buckingham; as a coward or traitor, he is loaded with a contumely beneath which Arnold or Hull would have sunk forever!
I listened. The pleasant hum of busy voices, the sharp tones of the master, the mumbled accents of hurried recitations, all were gone. The gathering shadows of evening corresponded most fittingly with the deepening gloom of my recollections, and I abandoned myself to their guidance, without an effort to control or direct them.
I stood alone upon the step. Where was he, whose younger hand always locked in mine, entered that room and left it so often by my side; that bright-eyed boy, whose quick wit and genial temper won for him the affections both of master and scholar; that gentle spirit that kindled into love, or saddened into tears, as easily as sunshine dallies with a flower or raindrops fall from a summer cloud; that brother, whose genius was my pride, whose courage my admiration, whose soul my glory; he who faltered not before the walls of Camargo, when but seven men, out of as many hundred in his regiment, volunteered to go forward, under the command of Taylor, to endure all the hardships of a soldier's life, in a tropical clime, and to brave all the dangers of a three days' assault upon a fortified city; he who fought so heroically at Monterey, and escaped death in so many forms on the battle-field, only to meet it at last 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 his unsculptured grave, sing his requiem, and carry along proudly to the everlasting sea the memory of his noble self sacrifice, as the purest tribute they bear upon their tide!
Such were my thoughts, as I stood pensively upon the block that served as a step when I was boy, and which still occupied its ancient position. I noticed that a large crack extended its whole length, and several shrubs, of no insignificant size, were growing out of the aperture. This prepared me for the wreck and ruin of the interior. The door had been torn from its hinge, and was sustained in an upright position by a bar or prop on the inside. This readily gave way on a slight pressure, and as the old door tumbled headlong upon the floor, it awoke a thousand confused and muffled echoes, more startling to me than a clap of the loudest thunder. But the moment I passed the threshold, the gloom and terror instantly vanished. I noticed that the back door was open, and in casting my glance to the upper end of the room, where the Rev. Mr. Craig once presided in state, my eyes were greeted by an apparition, that had evidently become domiciliated in the premises, and whose appearance revolutionized the whole tenor of my thoughts. Before me stood one of those venerable-looking billy-goats, of sedate eye, fantastic beard, and crumpled horn, the detestation of perfumed belle, and the dread of mischievous 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. I could almost fancy it to be the ghost of the murdered ancestor, or some phantom 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 "Woodville Academy," but greeted my Alma Mater with a shout of almost boyish laughter as I approached the spot where the pedagogue once sat upon his throne.
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 the army at the termination of hostilities, and settled upon a farm adjoining the village of Woodville. He was rather a queer old gentleman; had a high Roman nose, and, on muster days, was the general admiration of all Bertie County. He then officiated as colonel commandant of militia, and dressed in full uniform, with a tall, white feather waving most belligerently from his three-cornered cocked hat. He wore a sash and sword, and always reviewed the troops on horseback.
One day, after a statutory review of the militia of the county, a proposition was started to form a volunteer company of mounted hussars. A nucleus was soon obtained, and in less than a week a sufficient number had enrolled themselves to authorize the Colonel to order a drill. It happened on a Saturday; the place selected was an old field near the schoolhouse, and I need not add that the entire battalion of boys was out in full force, as spectators of the warlike exercises. How they got through with the parade, I have forgotten; but I do remember that the mania for soldiering, from that day forward, took possession of the school.
The enrollment at first consisted entirely of infantry, and several weeks elapsed before anybody ventured to suggest a mounted corps. Late one afternoon, however, as we were returning homeward, with drums beating and colors flying, we disturbed a flock of lazy goats, browsing upon dry grass, and evincing no great dread for the doughty warriors advancing. Our captain, whose dignity was highly offended at this utter want of respect, gave the order to "form column!" "present arms!" and "charge!" Austrian nor Spaniard, Italian nor Prussian, before the resistless squadrons of Murat or Macdonald, ever displayed finer qualities of light infantry or flying artillery, than did the vanquished enemy of the "Woodville Cadets" on this memorable occasion. They were taken entirely by surprise, and, without offering the least resistance, right-about-faced, and fled precipitously from the field. Their terrified bleating mingled fearfully with our shouts of victory; and when, at the command of our captain. I blew the signal to halt and rendezvous, our brave fellows magnanimously gave up the pursuit, and returned from the chase, bringing with them no less than five full-grown prisoners, as trophies of victory!
A council of war was immediately called, to determine in what way we should dispose of our booty. After much learned discussion, and some warm disputes, the propositions were narrowed down to two:
Plan the first was, to cut off all the beard of each prisoner, flog, and release him.
Plan the second, on the contrary, was, to conduct the prisoners to the playground, treat them kindly, and endeavor to train them to the bit and saddle, so as to furnish the officers with what they needed so much,—war-steeds for battle, fiery chargers for review.
The vote was finally taken, and plan number two was adopted by a considerable majority.
Obstacles are never insurmountable to boys and Bonapartes! Our coup d'etat succeeded quite as well as that of the 2d of December, and before a week elapsed the chief officers were all splendidly mounted and fully equipped.
At this stage of the war against the "bearded races," the cavalry question was propounded by one of the privates in Company A. For his part, he declared candidly that he was tired of marching and countermarching afoot, and that he saw no good reason why an invasion of the enemy's country should not at once be undertaken, to secure animals enough to mount the whole regiment.
Another council was held, and the resolve unanimously adopted, to cross the 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 a stroke of masterly generalship, worthy of his prowess in the late war with Great Britain.
And now it becomes proper to introduce upon the scene the most important personage in this history, and the hero of the whole story. I allude, of course, to the bold, calm, dignified, undaunted and imperturbable natural guardian of the Colonel's fold—Billy Goat!
He boasted of a beard longer, whiter, and more venerable than a high-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, on whose banks he was born; his tail might have been selected by some Spanish hidalgo, as a coat of arms, emblematic of the pride and hauteur of his family; whilst his tout ensemble presented that dignity of demeanor, majesty of carriage, consciousness of superior fortune, and defiance of all danger, which we may imagine characterized the elder Napoleon previous to the battle of Waterloo. But our hero possessed moral qualities quite equal to his personal traits. He was brave to a fault, combative to a miracle, and as invincible in battle as he was belligerent in mood. The sight of a coat-tail invariably excited his anger, and a red handkerchief nearly distracted him with rage. Indeed, he had recently grown so irascible that Colonel Averitt was compelled to keep him shut up in the fowl-yard, a close prisoner, to protect him from a justly indignant neighborhood.
Such was the champion that the Colonel now released and placed at the head of the opposing forces. Saturday came at last, and the entire morning was devoted to the construction of the proper number of wooden bits, twine bridle-reins, leather stirrups and pasteboard saddles. By twelve o'clock everything was ready, and the order given to march. We were disappointed in not finding the enemy at his accustomed haunt, and had 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 encamped beneath some young persimmon bushes, and entirely unconscious of impending danger. We approached stealthily, according to our usual plan, and then at a concerted signal rushed headlong upon the foe. But we had no sooner given the alarm than our enemies sprang to their feet, and clustered about a central object, which we immediately recognized, to our chagrin and terror, as none other than Billy Goat himself.
The captain, however, was not to be daunted or foiled; he boldly made a plunge at the champion of our adversaries, and would have succeeded in seizing him by the horns, if he had not been unfortunately butted over before he could reach them. Two or three of our bravest comrades flew to his assistance, but met with the same fate before they could rescue him from danger. The remainder of us drew off a short but prudent distance from the field of battle, to hold a council of war, and determine upon a plan of operations. In a few moments our wounded companions joined us, and entreated us to close at once upon the foe and surround him. They declared they were not afraid to beard the lion in his den, and that being butted heels over head two or three times but whetted their courage, and incited them to deeds of loftier daring. Their eloquence, however, was more admired than their prudence, and a large majority of the council decided that "it was inopportune, without other munitions of war than those we had upon the field, to risk a general engagement." It was agreed, however, nem. con., that on the next Saturday we would provide ourselves with ropes and fishing-poles, and such other arms as might prove advantageous, and proceed to surround and noose our most formidable enemy, overpower him by the force of numbers, and take him prisoner at all hazards. Having fully determined upon this plan of attack, we hoisted our flag once more, ordered the drum to beat Yankee Doodle, and retreated in most excellent order from the field—our foe not venturing to pursue us.
The week wore slowly and uneasily away. The clouds of war were gathering rapidly, and the low roll of distant thunder announced that a battle storm of no ordinary importance was near at hand. Colonel Averitt, by some traitorous trick of war, had heard of our former defeat, and publicly taunted our commander with his failure. Indeed, more than one of the villagers had heard of the disastrous result of the campaign, and sent impertinent messages to those who had been wounded in the encounter. Two or three of the young ladies, also, in the girls' department, had been inoculated with the fun (as it was absurdly denominated), and a leather medal was pinned most provokingly to the short jacket of the captain by one of those hoydenish Amazons.
All these events served to whet the courage of our men, and strange as it may appear, to embitter our hostility to our victorious foe. Some of the officers proceeded so far as to threaten Colonel Averitt himself, and at one time, I am confident, he stood in almost as much danger as the protector of his flock.
Saturday came at last, and at the first blast of the bugle, we formed into line, and advanced with great alacrity into the enemy's country. After marching half an hour, our scouts hastily returned, with the information that the enemy was drawn up, in full force, near the scene of the Persimmon bush battle. We advanced courageously to within speaking distance, and then halted to breathe the troops and prepare for the engagement. We surveyed our enemies with attention, but without alarm. 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, we separated into single files, one half making a detour to the right, and the other to the left, so as to encircle the foe. Our instructions were to spare all non-combatants, to pass by as unworthy of notice all minor foes, and to make a simultaneous rush upon the proud champion of our adversaries.
By this masterly manuvre it was supposed we should be enabled to escape unharmed, or at any rate without many serious casualties. But as it afterward appeared, we did not sufficiently estimate the strength and activity of our enemy.
After this preparatory manuvre had been successfully accomplished, our captain gave the order to "charge!" in a stentorian voice, and at the same time rushed forward most gallantly at the head of the squadron. The post of honor is generally the post of danger also, and so it proved on this occasion; for before the captain could grapple with the foe, Billy Goat rose suddenly on his hinder legs, and uttering a loud note of defiance, dashed with lightning speed at the breast of our commander, and at a single blow laid him prostrate on the field. Then wheeling quickly, ere any of his assailants could attack his rear flank, he performed the same exploit upon the first and second lieutenants, and made an unsuccessful pass at the standard-bearer, who eluded the danger by a scientific retreat. At this moment, when the fortunes of the day hung, 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, and awaited with fear and trembling the issue of the single-handed contest between David and Goliah; as Roman and Sabine stood back and reposed on their arms, whilst Horatio and Curiatii fought for the destiny of Rome and the mastery of the world, so the "Woodville Cadets" halted in their tracks on this memorable day, and all aghast with awe and admiration, watched the progress of the terrible duello between "Weasel," the drummer boy, and Billy Goat, the hero of the battle of the Persimmon bush.
The drummer first disengaged himself from the incumbrance of his martial music, then threw his hat fiercely upon the ground, and warily and circumspectly approached his foe. Nor was that foe unprepared, for rearing as usual on his nether extremities, he bleated out a long note of contempt and defiance, and dashed suddenly upon the "Weasel."
Instead of waiting to receive the force of the blow upon his breast or brow, the drummer wheeled right-about face, and falling suddenly upon all fours with most surprising dexterity, presented a less vulnerable part of his body to his antagonist, who, being under full headway, was compelled to accept the substituted buttress, and immediately planted there a herculean thump. I need not say that the drummer was hurled many feet heels over head, by this disastrous blow; but he had obtained the very advantage he desired to secure, and springing upon his feet he leaped quicker than lightning upon the back of his foe, and in spite of every effort to dislodge him, sat there in security and triumph!
With a loud huzza, the main body of the "Cadets" now rushed forward, and after a feeble resistance, succeeded in overpowering the champion of our foes.
As a matter of precaution, we blindfolded him with several handkerchiefs, and led him away in as much state as the Emperor Aurelian displayed when he carried Zenobia to Rome, a prisoner at his chariot-wheels.
The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. A council of war decided that he should be taken into a dense pine thicket, there suspended head downwards, and thrashed ad libitum, by the whole army.
The sentence was carried into execution immediately; and though he was cut down and released after our vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it to truth and history to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of a broken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with all the honors of war.
If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may add in conclusion, that the Rev. Mr. Craig avenged his manes, by wearing out a chinquapin apiece on the backs of "Weasel," the captain and officers, and immediately afterward disbanded the whole army.
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