Dart
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A Brief Sermon
(Present day, 1995. F is traveling in his car on the way
to the First Congregational Church in Vernon, Connecticut. It’s winter. The
roads have been cleared, but the trees are still glistening with snow.)
F: (Voiceover) I was not used to speaking before
large groups of people, and I hadn’t been inside a church in years. Some people
avoid churches for reasons they think good, even religious. Here in New England
especially, religion has been a sometimes fearsome thing. There are all sorts
of excuses for staying away, good and bad. My reason was one of the bad ones.
Salvation was my worry. I could not be saved without surrendering some of my
most enjoyable past pleasures, and sin, most especially the tidy, little
forgivable sins, are sweet. It was Oliver Dart that dragged me back to church.
(He pulls up before the church and finds the parking lot
packed with cars.)
F: Must have a good preacher here.
(From the interior of the church, the doors are
seen opening. F is seen shrouded in white light against a background of snow.
The wind whispers a bit, the doors are closed and he proceeds down the center aisle.
The church is crowded, filled with chiaroscuro light and shadow. The entire
congregation noiselessly stands. As he proceeds, we see their faces, all
following him with their watchful, anticipatory eyes.
Shots of F and the interior of the church. He begins a
little sermon of sorts. We see the impressions of his remarks on the faces of
the parishioners. The beauty and watchfulness of faces must play a central part
in this story of war and defacement)
F: Public speaking is new to me. If I make some mistakes, I
hope you will forgive me. We are all in the business of forgiveness (titters
from the congregants).
Oliver Dart was a Civil War soldier, a casualty of war, who
lived much of his life quietly in the shadows, not at all an obtrusive figure.
His story whispers to us; it does not shout. Dart’s dearest wish was to
disappear into his surroundings. The Civil War, by the way, was as brutal as it
was civil.
Oliver received his war wounds at the battle of
Fredericksburg in Virginia, a bloody rout for union soldiers and Connecticut’s
14th Regiment. Colonel Porter Alexander, General Longstreet’s
artillery chief, later wrote of the secondary attack on Marye’s Heights, “A
chicken could not live on that field when we opened on it.” Seven union
divisions were annihilated. Union forces suffered 8,000 losses, Confederate
forces 1,200.
It was a photograph of Oliver after he had returned home
from the battle of Marye’s Heights that drew me into his story, the photo and
family blood. He is a relative.
His bones, today blanketed in purist, undefiled snow,
sweeten the ground of Elmwood Cemetery, only a five minute walk from this
church. The picture of him was taken by Kelloggs Brothers on Main Street in
Hartford. I’m a Civil War re-enactor, which is to say I’m an amateur method
actor of a kind. I have played Darts’ part in the Fredericksburg battle in some
re-enactments. And I’ve found there’s a shocking difference between acting the
part and being Dart.
Dart had to have his picture taken so that he
might receive his Civil War pension. The image is imprinted on a carte-de-visite,
a visiting card about the size of a baseball card. Summoned by Lincoln to arms,
he went to war. Honor and righteousness were his guides, as Virgil was
Dante’s guide in the lower regions of Hell. The bloodiest and most painful wars
in our history were a prelude and passport to the mechanized wars of the 20th century.
For 17 years -- from Dec. 14, 1862, when he was wounded, until he
died of consumption or tuberculosis in 1879, at 40 years of age -- Dart wore
the Civil War on his face.
On the one side of the prayer card I’ve handed out to you
are a few words written, it has been said, by a Confederate soldier. I’d like
to read it to you now. (He reads and, as he does so, we see the faces of
some of the congregants reacting to the words.)
“I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things.
I was given infirmity that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy.
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of others,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of
God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
I was given life that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for — but everything that I had
hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I among all people, am most richly blessed.”
On the other side of the card, you will see the picture the
Kellogg Brothers took of Oliver.
(As the cards are turned over, we see the faces react to
Oliver’s face. Oliver’s face fills the screen.)
I’ve managed, through a careful study of the available
records, to worm my way into Oliver’s mind, and even now, I cannot convince
myself that this man -- entirely of the time and the place on God’s earth where
he lived out his relatively short life – would have changed a single moment. He
was brave beyond compare. In his story, there are lapses that can only be
filled by those who love and respect him. That would be me.
On The Train
(Virginia bound 1995. B and F are on a train.)
Belisa: Have you ever been to Virginia?
F: No, miss.
B: Business?
F: (He thinks and
seems doubtful.) Pleasure.
B: Are you tired? You don’t want to talk? I can pretend to
sleep.
F: I’m a little shy.
B: (Exuberantly) Me
too. (Actually, she’s very chatty and sociable) It’s a hard thing to
shake, but I try my best.
F: (Amused) I’m
willing to bet you succeed much of the time.
B: (She laughs) I can see there’s no fooling you. I’m
Belisa (She pronounces it Bell-Lee-sa).
F: Pleased to meet you. Where are you coming from?
B: Greenwich, Connecticut.
F: Lucky you.
B: I’m a teacher there. I live outside Greenwich.
We’re not rich, but still lucky, thank God.
F: Who are “we”?
B: The family. We’re all poor, thank God.
F: Why do you thank God that you’re poor?
B: Poverty, seasoned with honor, is a blessing.
F: (This strikes home and surprises him. He is not easily
or often surprised. The swift motion of the train passing by some
tall trees splashes the sun on her face. For a moment, he seems to be looking
at a reel of old film stuttering with flashes of light. It passes, and he looks
intently at her face. Instead of turning away at his persistent gaze, she
smiles brightly.) I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at you.
B: I don’t mind stares, as long as they do not have daggers
in them.
F: It was the way the shattered sun, broken by the trees,
just now illuminated your features. (He adds stupidly) I’m a student of
the human face.
B: A photographer?
F: Not a good one.
B: A painter?
F: Not at all. What is it you teach?
B: American Studies, literature. My course begins with
Jonathan Edwards, whom no one knows, and it ends with some post World War II
writers, the usual menu: Faulkner, Hemingway, Fitzgerald…
F: I know Edwards. I live not very far from his birthplace
in East Windsor.
B: (It’s her turn to be surprised) He’s a very
important theologian and metaphysician. What do you know of him?
F: He sparked the “Great Awakening” in New England, wrote
“Religious Affections” …
B: (Excited) You haven’t read that, have you?
F: More than once. (Her mouth pops open in surprise. She
stares at him, at a loss for words. Mildly and humorously
chastising) You shouldn’t stare so. (They both break into musical
peals of laughter. A few passengers move uneasily on their seats)
F: (F is sleeping in the train. Narrator’s
voice) It sure is funny how people enter your life at odd angles. Some make
a racket in your memory, others leave like whispers, not a shadow of a
fingerprint to be seen anywhere. These are harmless. It’s the persistent ones
that create all the havoc.
(We see the scene
below and hear the narrator’s voice) I knew I was related to Oliver Dart
through my grandmother. But he was a ghost – fleshless, until I met the Civil
War reenactor in Maryland. A woman I was with – nothing serious – went into a
store to gawk at some crystals. At that time, crystals were thought to have a
magic pull on the psyche. I wasn’t much into magic, so I told her I’d wait for
her on a bench outside the store. We were there to observe a reenactment of the
battle at Antietam, another Civil War slaughterhouse. She was as interested in
Civil War reenactments, I discovered, as I was in crystals. And later, after a
few painful episodes, we parted as friends.
Sitting outside the store on a bench was a re-enactor,
dressed in union blues with a Civil War rifle near at hand.
Re-enactor: Are you involved in the reenactment?
F: No, just an observer, not a participant. I’ve been
interested in the Civil War since I was eight. (Having some fun) I was a
precocious child, but I lost more than half my precocity along the way. That
happens as you grow up. You shed your genius. I’m a small-shot lawyer in
Hartford.
R: Good to meet you. I’m Oliver Dart.
F: (Thunderstruck) What!
R: I’m playing Dart’s part in the reenactment. Dart survived
Antietam, luck dog, but was less fortunate at Fredericksburg. Owing to what you
lawyers call “an abundance of caution,” McClellan neglected to attack Lee’s
forces when he could. Lincoln was right to fire him, don’t you think?
F: I’d like you to meet someone. Be right back.
F: (Narrator voice) I rushed in to fetch the crystal
gazer, but she was on to some other adventure and, when I got back out, the re-enactor
was gone. I’ve referred to him continually since then as Dart’s Ghost. From
then on, there could be no question of hesitation or prudence. The Civil, War
swallowed me the way the whale swallowed Jonah.
(A re-enactment of the battle of Maryes Heights and
Sunken Road may be found here.
Union troops advance. Confederates, secure behind a wall and three deep, mow
them down. Union bodies are everywhere. The smoke of the guns gradually lifts,
Rebel yells fill the air. Then peace descends and all is deathly silent for a
full minute. The camera pans over the bodies of union soldiers. F, playing the
part of Oliver, is lying near a wall and a shattered fence post. F turns. We
see the sun on his face, a blue sky through the trees. F’s eyes remain
closed. A hand stretches out and helps him stand.)
Soldier: Time for lunch.
(Sometime later, the two are seen sitting on a stump,
still dressed in uniforms, eating rations. The dead bodies are all gone.)
S: You may have wandered too deep into your part. You looked
dead, or asleep. I liked the way the union troops marched bravely into the
fire.
F: Yup. (Long pause)
The bullets were braver.
The Call To War
(August 1862. Oliver Dart is seen marching with other
recruits to a dock in Hartford, Connecticut, where he is due to take a boat to
New York and from there a train to Washington DC. The second
narrator’s voice here is Dart’s.)
Dart narrator: We were all raw and energetic. I was 22 years
old, a farmer out of South Windsor, newly married to my second wife, Maria
Symonds of Vernon. My first wife, Emily Goodrich, died in 1860, only a year
after we had been married.
I was mustered in with my brother George, a cousin, and a friend of
long standing. We all went off to war elbow to elbow, certain our lives would
remain unbroken by bullets and cannon, for our cause was righteous and just. We
were to hack the manacles from the feet of slaves and repair, through the
bloody engine of war, the breaches of the union. The debates, we knew, were all
over. No one could add a word to what had been said. Bullets would now speak. The
great cause called us, Lincoln called us – it was time, it was time, to beat
our plowshares into swords. There was martial music in our blood. Our farms and
our wives would wait for us, and when we returned victorious, we would beat our
swords once again into plowshares.
On the train to DC
MORE
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This is Oliver Dart’s Timeline
March 23 1839 Born
in South Windsor on Family Farm
Father
Oliver Dart Senior
Mother
Amanda Barber
Youngest
of six children (five brothers and one sister)
November 1859 Married
Emily Goodrich
Farmed
in South Windsor
Sept 25
1860 Emily
died
March 25
1861 Married Maria Symonds of
Vernon
Farmed
in South Windsor
1861 Civil
War starts
August 4th 1862 Oliver
enlists in Union Army- 14th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry
Company
D
August 20th 1862 Mustered
In
August 20-25th 1862 Trained
at Camp Foote in Hartford CT
August 25th 1862 Marched
through Hartford to docks and boarded boats to go to
New
York. In New York boarded trains for trip to Washington DC
Aug 29- Sept 7 1862 Trained at Fort Ethan Allen outside Washington
DC
Sept 7
1862 Marched
into Maryland to join up with 2nd Corp French’s Division
Sept 7-13
1862 Marching west through
Maryland passing through Frederick
Maryland
Sept 14th 1862 Passed
through South Mountain Battlefield. Saw first dead from
battle
and camped nearby.
Sept 15-16 1862 Marched
toward Sharpsburg Maryland passing through South
Mountain
range. Camped east of Antietam Creek on 16th.
Sept 17th 1862 Heavily engaged at Battle of
Antietam. Attacked Sunken Road
Position.
Sept 18-21 1862 Stayed in
vicinity of Sharpsburg following Confederate retreat
Sept 22nd 1862 Marched
to Harper’s Ferry
Sept 23- Oct 30 Camped at Bolivar Heights in
Harper’s Ferry
Outfitted
with new uniforms and equipment
Oct
30-Nov 16 Marched to
Fredericksburg Virginia
Nov 17th 1862 Arrived
outside Fredericksburg Virginia and went into camp
Dec 12th
1862 Crossed Rappahannock River
into Fredericksburg
Spent
night in houses along Sophia Street
Dec 13th 1862 Engaged
in Battle of Fredericksburg {attack on Mayre’s Heights}
Oliver
was wounded in face by a shell burst
Fellow
soldiers carried Oliver back into town
Spent
night on porch of Rowe House on Caroline Street
Dec 14th 1862 Oliver
moved back across river to 2nd Corp Hospital
Dec 26th 1862 Transported
to Stanton Hospital outside Washington DC
Feb 8th1863 Discharged
from Service. His brother George and George’s wife
traveled
to Washington to bring him home
Summer
1863 Oliver had two
operations on his face. First one in his brother
James’
home and second in his father’s home
June 1st 1863 Maria
leaves Oliver
June 18th –Aug 28 Spent time in
Hartford Hospital being treated for Soldier’s Heart
Sept
1863 Returned
to South Windsor and his farm
Dec 3rd 1866 Oliver
was granted divorce from Maria on grounds of desertion
March
1869 Married
Auriela Barber
Nov 21
1871 Daughter
Dora is born
June 7th 1973 Son
Leonard is born
Aug 11t
1879 Oliver
Dart dies at home in South Windsor {cause of death
Is
listed as consumption} 40 years old
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