The Seventh Regiment: A Record

by George L. Wood

"'Mrs. Colonel Creighton: My dear Friend—I have just read in the dispatches that your brave husband and Lieutenant-Colonel Crane were killed in the late battle at Ringgold, Georgia. Oh, how sad this is! Sad to me who loved him; but how terribly sad to you, his beloved wife! I cannot write about it. Precious memories of hours and days of dangers and hardships, shared together in Western Virginia (and of one long, serious conversation about death and eternity, as we rode together at midnight through the woods) crowd upon me. He was warm-hearted, generous, and noble. He loved his country unto death. He was brave, even to rashness. But he has gone!'

"'Yes, the warm-hearted friend, the loving brother, the affectionate son, the devoted husband, the brave soldier, the undying patriot, the fearless and fiery Creighton, is gone! We are here to-day to honor his memory, recount his heroic deeds of noble daring, mourn his fall, and convey his lifeless remains—with those of his brave comrade, Lieutenant-Colonel Crane—to the tomb of a hero and a patriot.

"'What words of elegiac comfort shall I speak to his numerous personal and sorrowful friends; his brothers in the union of the same useful and honorable handicraft; his brave comrades in arms of the noble Seventh, and other regiments, who are here to attest their affection and sorrow; his brother in the flesh, who is now left without a brother; his aged and sorely bereaved mother; and his youthful, but grief-stricken, widow? How shall I, who would take my place with the mourners, speak words of comfort to you?

"'Let us remember that although our dear, dear friend will no longer mingle with us in the social or domestic circle,—will not again lead regiment or brigade of fearless braves in the thickest and hottest of the fight, inspiring to feats of exalted heroism—his brave and generous heart now cold and lifeless—dim and sightless those eyes whose radiant and enlivening orbs beamed, now with kindness, and now with fiery bravery—his intercourse with the living world, brought to a final period,—let us remember, that although Colonel Creighton is gone, yet he is not lost; he is not lost to his country, for it has his noble example of true bravery and practical patriotism.

"'He is not lost to us who knew him, for he lives, and will ever live, templed in our brightest memories and best affections. Nor can he be lost to history, for he has made the offering which places his name on its brightest page.

"'Death never comes alone, but is always attended by an escort of sadness. Whenever the silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl broken, the pitcher broken at the fountain, the wheel broken at the cistern, and dust returns to the earth, as it was, mourners go about the streets. But it is especially sad, when, as in this case, sister, mother, and wife are denied the sorrowful pleasure of being present, and ministering to the wants of the dying, and speaking words of Christian hope. But even this finds an offset in the fact that it was his honored privilege to die for country—to fall, covered with glory! Also, in the fact that his body was not mangled—that he did not suffer long—in the assurance furnished by the words, 'Oh, my dear wife!' uttered in dying accents after he fell, and before he expired, that his last thoughts were of home and kindred; and may not we hope that these words were breathed in prayer, and that he threw his whole soul helpless, but trustfully, upon the merits of the Saviour? Again, it is a source of great gratification to us all, and especially to the relatives, that he does not fill a distant and unknown grave—that he was tenderly borne from the field, and promptly forwarded for honorable interment. His grave is to be in our midst, marked by a marble shaft, which will scarcely crumble beneath the tread of the coming ages. You can go there and pay the mournful tribute which nature and affection prompt. And may it not be believed, that from their patriotic ashes (for Creighton and Crane fought and fell together, and they are to rest side by side)—is it not to be believed, that from their patriotic ashes will spring a rich harvest in kind to at once avenge their fall, and save our imperilled country? And will not fathers and mothers conduct their children to these honored graves, and there put upon them vows of eternal hostility to treason and to traitors, be they secret or armed, even as Hamilcar caused his son Hannibal to swear, at the altar, eternal hatred to Rome? And will not every one who visits their tombs, and reads their epitaphs, whisper, "Peace and honor." And when this cruel war is over, and the God of our fathers shall crown our labors and sufferings with success, and bestow upon us, as a nation, an honorable, righteous, and perpetual peace, then, amid the light, and songs, and joy of the nation's jubilee, let their epitaphs be written anew. And during all ages, peace to their ashes, peace to their memory, and peace to their heroic spirits.

"'Let us this day, around the lifeless forms of these fallen heroes, not profanely, but solemnly and religiously, swear that the lives of these, together with the lives of hundreds of thousands of the flower of the nation, given for the salvation of the country, shall not be given in vain; that we will complete well, what they have so well begun.

"'I need not ask of you, in behalf of the aged mother and bereaved widow of Colonel Creighton, your warm, your practical, your continued sympathies: these, I am sure, will not be withheld. But I now ask you to join me in one fervent prayer to the God of the aged, the fatherless, and the widow, our fathers' God, and the God of battles, that He will, by His almighty arm, sustain, and, by His abundant grace, comfort the aged mothers, and bereaved widows, and afflicted friends of our brave soldiers, and their departed sons, husbands, and brothers; that He will thus sustain and comfort all whose hearts have been cloven by the battle-axe of war; that He will abundantly shield, help, bless, and comfort our brave soldiers upon the field, in the hospitals, and prisoners in the hands of our enemies; and that He will speedily bestow upon our imperilled country the inestimable blessing of an honorable, righteous, and lasting peace. Amen.'

"Rev. C. C. Foot, at the request of the family of the late Lieutenant-Colonel Crane, made the following address:

"'The duties we are called to perform—the bearing of our dead brave to their final rest—is indeed solemn and sad. That those who admired and loved them in life, and delight to honor them when dead, should, with sympathizing hearts and grateful hands, minister such a funeral ovation, is due to them in view of the sacrifice they made, the toils they endured, and their deeds of patriotism and valor. When the bugle was first sounded in Washington, calling the North to the defence of our institutions, these were among the first to respond; leaving their business, their friends, and their families, for the field of strife, they unsheathed their swords to strike for freedom's sacred cause. In many skirmishes, and in every battle of their brigade, they struck with such bravery and success as to have secured perpetual illustriousness; while ever a nation exists to feel the throb of a nation's heart, while a man lives to read the annals of America, their noble deeds shall be known, and their illustrious names shall be honored.