USA > Virginia > Clarke County > Clarke County > Old chapel, Clarke County, Virginia, Episcopal Church > Part 2
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HRIST Church, Millwood, was built in the year 1834. The
C lot of two acres on which it stands was given for the purpose of building the church by Mr. George Burwell, of Carter Hall, who was always liberal and generous in his donations to the church and to all benevolent objects. The deed by which the lot was conveyed to the trustees of the church is dated April 18, 1832. In his book [page 288, Volume II] Bishop Meade says: "In the year 1834 it was found that the Old Chapel was too small and inconvenient for the increasing congregation, and it was therefore determined to erect another and a larger one in a more central and convenient place in the vicinity of Millwood, on ground given by Mr. George Burwell, of Carter Hall. Such, however, was the attachment of many to the Old Chapel that funds for the latter could not be obtained, except on condition of alternate services at the Chapel. From year to year these services became less frequent, until, at length, they are now reduced to an annual pilgrimage, on some summer Sabbath, to this old and much loved spot; or death summons the neighbors to add one more to the tenants of the graveyard."
THE "HE tradition that the annual services held here are prescribed by the contract by which the property is held rests only on the stipulation in the deed from Col. Nathaniel Burwell, that in case it is used for any purpose incompatible with its use as a place of divine worship, it shall revert to him and his heirs.
A FTER the removal of the congregation to Christ Church, Millwood, the history of the "Old Chapel" is little more than a record of those who, from time to time, have gone over to the great majority. Eighteen of our soldiers, who gave their lives for the cause of States rights, lie buried here, and memorial services have been held here in every summer since 1866, to keep green the memory of our dead and to decorate their graves with flowers.
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Decoration Day Address
The following address was delivered by Prof. W. H. Whiting, Jr., at the Annual "Decoration Day Service," on June 1, 1897, and has received much favorable comment from North and South. The address is typical of those delivered each year at the "Flower Strewing" of graves in the Old Chapel Cemetery.
V ETERANS of the Confederacy, Ladies and Gentlemen, Sons and Daughters of Our Fair Southland:
W TE have met today to do honor to those whose deeds of desperate daring will live in song and story until time shall be no more. We are here in this hallowed place to com- memorate the heroism of those who gave their lives to the Southern cause and whose fame will go down in history side by side with that of Leonidas and his heroic Spartans at Ther- mopylæ; side by side with that of Winkelreid and his band of grim mountaineers; side by side with that of the Six Hundred who rode into the jaws of death at Balaklava. We cannot crown our Southern heroes with the laurel wreath of victory, for alas! the cause for which they fought was lost, but we can twine above them, with loving hands, living garlands of immor- telles. We can offer them the tribute of our love and tears, and bending over their graves in sadness and in sorrow can rejoice because of their patient courage, their earnest patriot- ism, their heroic valor, and their deathless glory.
A SOLDIER of Napoleon fell on the field of battle fighting so gallantly that the great Emperor ordered that his name should never be stricken from the roll of his company; and ever afterwards, when the name of L'Autour D'Auvergne was called, a man stepped forward from the ranks and reverently lifting his cap responded, "Dead, on the field of honor." So, when the roll of the Confederate dead is called here today, though our lips may not frame the words, our hearts will feel that each one fell at the post of duty.
"How can man die better than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods? "
H TOW should we determine the meed of honor due to an actor on the stage of history? By the results achieved ? No. By his pomp and circumstance? No. By the world's estimate of him? No. Patient self-denial, uncomplaining resignation to the inevitable, and unfaltering devotion to
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the right alone give title deed to true glory. The highest encomiums, the most elaborate eulogies which can be pro- nounced upon men in this world do not carry with them the force of the simple statement, "Duty was the watchword of their lives." Judged by this standard, men have never lived more worthy of praise and admiration than those who followed the "stars and bars" of the Confederacy and who died in defence of their native land.
T' 'HIS is not the time or the place for constitutional argument or historical review. I should like to outline the constitu- tional attitude of the South and explain the historical basis upon which it rests. An examination of the facts would show the righteousness of her cause and would prove to the satisfaction of Southern minds, at least, the doctrine of State sovereignty. But I shall not do this. I shall not attempt to prove that the South was right. You feel and know that already. You realize that our Federal constitution contemplated a union of sovereign States, not a consolidation. You know that it was intended that each State should maintain its autonomy, and not lose its identity, by being merged into an organic whole. Common sense teaches that when the independent partners in a business become dissatisfied, they are at liberty to withdraw from the firm, and some partners cannot coerce others into continuing an association which has become unpleasant and unprofitable. The expediency of secession may be doubted, but the right was clearly ours.
TT was to maintain this right that the sword of Lee flashed 4 from its scabbard, pure and bright. It was to maintain this right that the silent professor buckled on his sword and taught the world how men, the swiftest on the march and the most irresistible in the charge, amid the bursting of shrapnel and shell and amid the shock and roar of battle, could stand a horrid hedge of steel, a veritable "stone wall." It was to maintain this right that the lighthearted Stuart rode to his death-Stuart, the fiery Rupert of the South. It was to maintain this right that Jos. E. Johnston, like Moses of old, turned his back upon the seductive allurements offered by the enemies of his country, choosing rather to suffer privation and loss with his own State and among his own people than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. It was to maintain this right that the husband-
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man left his plow, the mechanic his workshop, the merchant his counting room, the lawyer his brief, the doctor his office, and the clergyman his study. It was to maintain this right that the gallant sons of this gallant county marched to the front with Jackson and did their duty like men, from the open- ing guns at First Manassas to the final charge at Appomattox.
THEN the call of duty came to the men of the South, when each State called her sons to her assistance, boys and gray - headed men took their stand together in the ranks. Veterans who had learned war under Scott at Molino del Rey, at Cherubusco, and at Chapultapec taught their sons and grand- sons the use of the sabre and of the bayonet. It was to main- tain this right that the daughters of the South endured with Spartan courage privations and insults, keeping watch and ward over the homesteads in the smiling valleys and on the fertile hillsides; for this right the fair hands unused to toil, became hard, and brown, and worn. Yes, all classes and conditions, all ages, men and women alike, freely offered themselves to what they conceived to be the cause of liberty and right.
WX THAT lessons may we gather from the events and results of these years of war and bloodshed?
F "IRST. We learn that in this world truth is not always triumphant and that error wounded does not always writhe with pain and die among its worshippers. From the dawn of creation it has been true-as the Psalmist declared it to be in his day-that "the wicked flourish as a green bay tree," and that "the just are not always recompensed upon the earth." In his infinite wisdom the God of Battles did not permit victory to perch upon our banners, and suffered our sun to set in failure and defeat, but we must not think that the day of our destiny is over or that the star of our hope has declined. Divine Omniscience has designed that we should not establish a sepa- rate political existence. Trusting that all things work together for our good and believing that a day of reckoning is coming when all accounts will be settled with the exact impartiality of Omnipotent justice, and when the Judge of all the earth will make it clear that He has done right, we are in duty bound to submit to the decree, and to accept the arbitrament of the sword. Then with community of interest and oneness of pur- pose we may hope to make our common country a united band
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of sister States, the land of the free and the home of the brave, thus, perhaps, achieving the results for which our Southern Chivalry fought and died in a better and more satisfactory way than that which they attempted. Let us look forward to the time when as Virginia's silver-tongued orator has put it, "the loud hurrahs of the boys who wore the blue shall mingle with the wild, sweet music of the rebel cheer in one grand, national anthem."
S ECOND. We learn in the second place that earnest perse- verance and devoted faithfulness can accomplish stupendous results in the face of tremendous obstacles and overwhelming difficulties.
T "HE seceding States occupied a vast territory reaching from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, without railroad commu- nications between its parts and with a scattered white popula- tion; the Northern states lying in compact mass with ready means of communication, were teeming with people. Nine million had to contend with twenty million. The South was mainly engaged in agriculture, depending upon others for manufactured products; the Northern people were engaged in manufacturing, seafaring and commerce as well. Thus, people of one industry and means of support had to contend against those whose resources were many and various. The South had no government, the North had the machinery of government in full and efficient operation. The South at first had no army or navy or arsenals or forts; the North had all these ready for immediate use. The South was poor, the North was rich. The South had few sources from which to fill up the ranks thinned by disease and by the ravages of war; the North had men in abundance, for recruits poured in from all quarters of the globe.
U INDER the stars and stripes were marshalled representatives
of all nations-Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Italians, Hungarians, Arabs, Scandinavians, Danes, Poles. From the verdant fields of Erin, from the thistle downs of Scotia, from the sunny land of France, from the vine-clad hills of the classic Rhine, from the frozen shores of Arctic Russia, from the burn- ing sands of African deserts, "from Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral stand," came ruthless mercenaries, agents of fanatical hate, paid to devastate and to ruin.
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A GAINST these hordes came forth a devoted band of Southern manhood "of chivalry the flower and pride, the arms in battle bold." For four long years, they maintained the unequal contest. Amid privations and sufferings, dis- couragements and defeats, they did deeds of martial prowess such as the world has rarely seen, until at last the few survivors ragged, hungry and forlorn, laid down their arms at Appo- mattox and bravely faced the future. How could the South accomplish these results for which her resources seemed so inadequate? The explanation is found in the character of the Southern people, in their environment, and in the motive by which they were animated.
THE Southern people were a high-spirited, self-reliant race.
Each Southern gentleman was monarch in his own domain. Being a man in authority, he said to one "go" and to another "come," and he expected to be obeyed. He superintended the smallest details of his domestic affairs. He followed his reapers as their cradles rang through the golden harvest, and if need be he could lead them when the sun was hottest and the grain heaviest. He understood the mysteries of the joiner's art, and needed no architect to help him direct the carpenters of his own training. He was familiar with the ring of the anvil in his smithy when his own black vulcan forged under his instruc- tions all the implements of iron needed on the plantation. These constant occupations made him an independent, manly man, impatient of restraint, brooking no opposition, and know- ing no such word as "fail."
G IVE such a man a cause which enlisted his sympathy and appealed to his patriotism, show him that his rights were being invaded, and think what a soldier he would make. This is what happened: His fiery temper was softened into dauntless courage, his disposition to overcome difficulties became patient perseverance, and his unwillingness to admit failure gave rise to marvelous staying power. His courage, his perseverance, and his endurance, then, made the Southern gentleman, when animated by a righteous cause, well-nigh invincible.
P YRRHUS said after the battle of Heraclea, when he saw Roman soldiers laying dead with wounds all in front: "Give me an army of such men as these, and I will conquer
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the world." It is no wonder, therefore, that Southern generals won worldwide fame, for they were the leaders of Southern men.
L' ET us emulate the example of our heroic dead, let us be persevering and honest and faithful in the discharge of duty, championing the right and repressing the wrong, and while we throw our influence on the side of peace, harmony, and good feeling, let us see to it that the day never comes when we shall forget the Southern cause, the Southern soldier, and the Southern grave.
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"A Gentleman of Verona"
The following letter was written to The Clarke Courier on February 27, 1902; but, through some unexplained cause, was not printed in the Courier until March 25, 1903. The authorship of the letter was not disclosed by the editor of the Courier until the death of Mr. Thomas M. Nelson, when it was thought perfectly proper that he should be given, even at that late day, the honor which his effort deserved. While the letter does not bear directly upon the Old Chapel, it contains the names of a number of men whose remains lie in the Cemetery there.
VERONA, FEBRUARY 27, 1902.
D' EAR COURIER :- I have long intended writing you a letter, "it may turn out to be a song or it may turn out to be a sermon." Your letter signed Smart Set so struck on the chords of my heart that I dropped you a line a short time ago, and was much pleased by the very high compliment paid me by One of the Smart Set by saying I was a very nice gentleman, which is after all the highest praise I can ever hope for, as it is about the only ambition I have in life to be known as a gentleman, with all that implies. As Queen Elizabeth wrote James of Scotland, "I have had of this world hard treat- ment though much pleasure with it." And the greatest of all my pleasures having been associated with the Valley of Virginia and especially with the Millwood neighborhood, living as I do far away in this far distant land, and away from my old home and loved ones, makes me feel as if the old State and people belong to me, and I am as much gratified by any success which comes to the young men who are away, and those at home as if I knew them as well as those of my youth and early years. One of the Smart Set kindly said in her letter that the young people of the neighborhood would be glad to see me. It would be unspeakable pleasure for me to know them as I knew all the old people, but April and October are a long way apart and October looks with much more pleasure on April than spring does on the fall, but all that is another story, and I am only using your space and the patience of your readers. I live here on this high bluff, over-looking the mighty river and after much wandering in many lands, and at night when the day's work is done, listening to the ceaseless flow of the turbid river. I find "I am dreaming, and bright visions of the past come over the still deep waters in ripplets bright and fast." And nightly ere my spirit kneels in prayer I think over the war, the
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glowing camp fires, the long hot marches, the lonely picket duty. Bands playing Dixie, Bonnie Blue Fag, The Mockingbird, Laurena and all the rest of them, they seem to me to have more music in them than any songs ever written. But as my friends say I am on my hobby now and can ride forever, when I touch the war, as you say ancient history. I do not intend to weary you with battle scenes and with accounts of our great men and generals, for are they not all "written in the books of history." I should like if my pen has the power to make you a few pictures of some of the noble men with whom I served for part of the war in the Company C, Second Regiment, Stone- wall Brigade. Rudyard Kipling says "the officers are well written about," but it is only my Mess-mates and comrades and dear friends whom I shall speak of. There was our first Captain, William N. Nelson, the noblest gentleman I have ever seen. I fancy I can see him now in full dress uniform as he took us on dress parade, as handsome as an Apollo Belvedere, keen of wit, sound of judgment, stern in the performance of duty, expecting all men to do theirs in the cause he loved so well, and every inch a soldier. There was Will Randolph, true and tried, who fell as Colonel of the Regiment on the 13th day of May, 1864; who stood like King Saul head and shoulders above any man, scholar, gymnast, statesman, and the bravest man I thought in the army. I recall how he looked as he walked on top of the works at Gettysburg carrying an oil cloth full of ammunition to the Company. And Robert Randolph, also Captain of Company C, killed at Cedar Creek, a perfect type of Christian soldier and gentleman. And I see Tom Randolph as he looked at the extreme right of the Company as we marched in at Manassas on that bright July morning when our Captain and seventeen men were killed and wounded out of fifty-seven muskets.
I OFTEN thought in looking at Tom Randolph that "he is complete in features and mind with all good grace to grace a gentleman," and John Jolliffe, faithful to the end, and badly wounded at Chancellorsville, Carly Whiting who was twice wounded before he was seventeen and died a martyr's death at nineteen, and his joyous laugh was lost to the Cavalry Camp. There were six Grubses out of seven killed and wounded; their mother should have been as proud of them as if they had been
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the Gracchi, and Lieut. David Keeler, like Hercules, killed without the city wall. I mind well Adam Thompson, the best squirrel shot in the Company, and Bill Thompson, as good a soldier as ever polished a belt buckle or bayonet. Then there was Warren Copenhaver, though dying soon after his first fight, left a glorious record behind him, and Old John Hibbard, shot in the leg at Manassas at the time our Captain got his death wound so far as active service was concerned, and Robert Bur- well, the coolest man I ever saw under fire, and who in the Company does not remember George Burwell trying to draw his ramrod from his gun at Kernstown and crying because he could not get another shot at the-Yankees, and which of you old fellows does not remember George's capturing the Yankee Captain at Manassas when he was only fourteen years old. Lord, what a handsome dashing boy he was. There was a man with us on whose memory my mind loves to linger as I look over the past. I fear you will say, DEAR COURIER, that I am only calling the roll of honor, but calling the roll was my business at that time, as it was the business of the man of whom I am just speaking, a man who never would take promotion because he thought he could serve the Dear Mother-land better as a private or non-commissioned officer, and because I think he really loved to feel the pressure of the musket to his shoulder, and got more of the glory of the strife on foot doing a private's duty than he would anywhere else. As I heard one of the officers say once he believed he was one of the most reckless men in the army. I refer to Nat Burwell of Carter Hall. It would be useless to have to write his name for any of the old Company to know him when I recall the time before Richmond when Colonel Bots called on Nat to rally the regiment and let them dress on him just as the evening was closing in and the regiment came to his call. Think of the gallant fellow after the battle was fought carrying water to the wounded of the enemy because he said our wounded had their friends to look after them and the others, poor fellows, had been left in our hands. That always seemed to me the truest hospitality and the highest Christian virtue. Many of those fellows became commissioned officers and many were killed, but all deserved high rank. I have not forgotten John McCormick and the way he carried dispatches for General Rhodes at Gettysburg, to whom he had
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been transferred from Company C, as the army marched to Pennsylvania. "I am dreaming and the visions of the past come over the still deep waters in ripplets bright and fast." I find it impossible to mention more than a few of the noble men I had the honor to serve with, in a letter, but I hope it will make some one of the old boys who has more talent than I write what he knows so I may see it way off here and know who has passed over the river and who are still on this side. What has become of Nat Cook, and Phil Nelson, and Maud Lewis? What boys they were, and what men they made, ripening in the hot furnace of red battle. There are many more men I would like to pay a passing tribute to, some who were not of my command, but I shall only speak of two now. Capt. Hugh Nelson, after- wards Major. I mind him well on his milk white steed when the white banner of peace was still spread over our fair land. The greatest scholar, statesman and scientist of the day, man of wonderous charm of manner and bearing, a man all of whose ways were ways of pleasantness and all his paths were peace, but when once the despot's heel was on our shore, he was a very bolt of war, and the beau ideal of a Cavalry Commander, as he led the Old Clarke Cavalry on Victor, when the foremost fight- ing fell. And then there was Dr. Archie Randolph, Fitz Lee's chief medical advisor and friend. What men these are! I have often thought that a king would be blessed if his throne was surrounded and supported by such men. I have purposely only spoken of men whom I knew, but the noble women of that day I dare not try to paint for Shakespeare only painted one Portia, and Thackery one Ethel Newcome, so of course I can't pretend to tread on such holy ground, nor do I see how anyone could undertake to speak of the Mothers, Wives, and Sweethearts and Sisters of such men as I have mentioned from that dear old neighborhood. I am dreaming and I think I see the country as it stretches out from the first rise as you leave the Opequon, going east along the turnpike till you reach the Blue Ridge and all the homes of loveliness and worth as you pass from Upper Longwood. The long low rose covered house, the home of the most gracious hospitality I ever knew, and a little to the left and back of it The Briars, where the great author, John Esten Cooke, lived and worked, and did so much to put the Lost Cause in its proper light. Then a little further is Grafton,
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where lived Col. R. H. Lee, who fell badly wounded at Kerns- town forty yards ahead of his Company, carrying the banner of the Second Virginia Infantry. Then there was Pagebrook with its beautiful lights and shadows, and Saratoga, with its beautiful spring and stream flowing in and out forever through the broad meadow and deep grass, perfect home of loveliness and worth, and many more. Then there was Carter Hall, the residence of the Burwells, with its beautiful gardens and wealth of flowers, and Annefield which gave the Carters to the Southern cause, whose gardens could have made Elizabeth's German garden blush. I have been back there once in many years, and saw some new places on the road, one handsome pile of buildings with well trimmed lands, and I was told it was the residence of Mr. Mayo, which was well, as it went to show that he had brought back to Clarke many blessings. I could easily fill your paper on the subject of the dear old neighbor- hood, but I fear it would not interest many of our readers, as the night is far spent and I have had a chance to think of many dear and long lost friends, and had a better and fuller view of the places, and as the night is far spent and the day is at hand I will express my best wishes to the rising generation and say that I hope the Hunt Club and the Country Club will both be sources of pleasure and advantage to them, and that the men may be as strong, as wise and as brave and the women as good as those I knew, and everything will be all right. You must remember that it all depends on the women, and that those women in the early sixties were very devout and the church had much weight in all that they did, and I do not see in any of your letters from the dear old spot any references to the church, which quite surprised me because while I am sorry to say I had not much to do with it, still all those men I knew and served with were men influenced by the church more than any body of men I ever served with, and I have been in many lands with many people. There were many fine lads at Rosney and Oak Grove Academy in my day. One boy used to strike me much, I mind well; he had the face of one of Raphael's cherubs, that I once saw in St. Peter's; he was very tall and slight, and had great mechanical talent, the sweetest yet the strongest face I ever saw on a boy, or young man, with very light wavy hair. Isham Randolph; I ween well he must have made a great man.
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