From the Richmond
Dispatch,
7/11/1866
THE FORTIFICATIONS AROUND RICHMOND. The fortifications which formerly swept around the greater portion of this
city are now gradually disappearing, and before many years have passed over us
not a vestige of them may be expected to remain. Those formidable bastions and
redoubts, lunettes and salients, star forts and enclosed works, from which the
cannon frowned defiance, are now dismantled and falling to decay! The gabions
have rotted, the revêtments have fallen or been carried away; and on the
parapet, where the sentry paced his round, the lock and the thistle now grow in
wild and riotous luxuriance. The rifle-pits, where Lee’s “barefooted boys”
so often lay in silence, have been filled in and levelled; the sharp crack of
the rifle has given place to the golden-eared wheat and sprouting corn; and
where schrapnel and cannister, shot and shell, mowed down long files of men, the
husbandman peacefully wields his glistening scythe. Still of the war many sad
traces are left besides those that sorrow has given upon our hearts! The spot in
the old field where a soldier fell is marked by a brighter green, and the rank
grass shows only too plainly where one of the “unknown and unrecorded dead”
lies buried. No mound or head-board marks the grave, and the plough of the
farmer must soon obliterate all traces of the place which had been made sacred
forever by its baptism in a hero’s blood. The remains of many of the fallen
soldiers have been disinterred and placed, by the hand of care and affection, in
the cemeteries, where they can be honored and cared for by succeeding
generations; but many, too many, must be lost to our rememberance and respect.
Farmers outside of the city are busily engaged in levelling
the works upon their land, and they seem determined to make use of every
available foot of ground. Captain Kennedy, of Marion Hill, on whose land was
raised the first of the works which defended Richmond
so well, is rapidly placing his fine farm in order; and those old soldiers who
took part in its erection will not long be able to point out the spot where once
their battery stood. Many relics are constantly being carried away from the
battle-fields, and one old soldier the other day carefully brought home a
handful of the earth which had so long stood as a wall of defence between him
and the enemy. Let no one mock or ridicule the spirit which prompted this.
Surely if a slip of the willow of Longwood, a splinter of the humble house at
Stratford-on-Avon, a flower from the Garden of Ferney, or a fragment of wood
from Mount Vernon, is honored and sacred, how much more dear, how much more
honored, in our eyes, must be a portion of the crumbling dust with which has
mingled the best blood of the simple, unselfish, and courageous Confederate
soldier.
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