Harper's WeeklyThe illustration that accompanied the poem “April 20, 1864” by Private Miles O’Reilly in Harper’s Weekly
In its April 30, 1864, issue, Harper’s Weekly ran the above illustration—accompanied by the poem below—on the front page. Penned by Irish-born journalist, author, and Union soldier Charles G. Halpine—who wrote under the penname “Private Miles O’Reilly”—the poem, titled “April 20, 1864,” poignantly reflects on the painful attrition wrought by the conflict, which Harper’s editors termed, in an accompanying article, “The Waste of War.”
Three years ago to-day
We raised our hands to heaven,
And on the rolls of muster
Our names were thirty-seven;
There were just a thousand bayonets,
And the swords were thirty-seven,
As we took the oath of service
With our right hands raised to heaven.
Oh ’twas a gallant day,
In memory still adored,
That day of our sun-bright nupitals
With the musket and the sword!
Shrill rang the fifes, the bugles blared,
And beneath a cloudless heaven
Twinkled a thousand bayonets,
And the swords were thirty-seven.
Of the thousand stalwart bayonets
Two hundred march to-day;
Hundreds lie in Virginia swamps,
And hundreds in Maryland clay;
And other hundreds, less happy, drag
Their shattered limbs around,
And envy the deep, long, blessed sleep
Of the battle-field’s holy ground.
For the swords—one night, a week ago,
The remnant, just eleven,
Gathered around a banqueting board
With seats for thirty-seven;
There were two limped in on crutches,
And two had each but a hand
To pour the wine and raise the cup
As we toasted “Our flag and land!”
And the room seem filled with whispers
As we looked at the vacant seats,
And, with choking throats, we pushed aside
The rich but untasted meats;
Then in silence we brimmed our glasses,
As we rose up—just eleven,
And bowed as we drank to the loved and the dead
Who had made us THIRTY-SEVEN!
Following the poem, the editors of Harper’s Weekly added their thoughts on Halpine’s words and the accompanying illustration, reprinted below:
As an illustration of the inevitable waste of war, and in connection with the song on our first page from the pen of Miles O’Reilly, it may be mentioned that one of our New York regiments re-entered the service after the first battle of Bull Run nine hundred strong. After participating in the toils and battles of the Peninsula, it carried over the Rappahannock into the battle of Fredericksburg 240 enlisted men and twenty officers. Two of the fullest companies, after crossing the river, were detailed on a duty which kept them out of actual fire, leaving the Colonel with but 168 men and 16 officers to take part in the storming of the heights. At the close of the day, 2 of the 16 officers were dead and 14 wounded; and of the men, 142 out of 168 were either killed or wounded. This regiment belonged to a brigade which left this city 3400 strong, there being four regiments in it; and which returned not many months ago, the four regiments having been consolidated, reduced to a battalion of 620 able-bodied men, under the command of a Lieutenant-Colonel.
Facts like these exhibit with sad emphasis the lamentable waste and exhaustion of life which the rebellion has occasioned. But while the holy war goes on, and homes and made desolate, and lives are stripped of their bloom, let us remember that through all Freedom is winning new triumphs, and that every heart that bleeds for her sake shall somewhere find its compensation, and every life that is bruised in her defense shall find brighter blossoms among its leaves than ever grew there before.
